Shadows Nevermore
by JeffC FTW
Summary: Life is full of tantalizing and complex mysteries, with shadows lurking in every corner. Life is filled with surreal dreams you have to fight to obtain, with uncertainty, caution and ambiguity in the air. But it can also be riddled with excitement, love and possibilities.
1. Prologue: Origins

**With the consent of my dear friend Vytina - the creator of Iris DeLaine, a love interest of our beloved Dr. Jonathan Crane, specifically his Animated Series incarnation - I bring "Shadows Nevermore", a Batman Begins/Dark Knight retelling of the story of Iris DeLaine and Jonathan Crane.**

 **Iris DeLaine was Crane's student in psychology before he was fired, as told in Vytina's stories, because of their forbidden longing for each other and the complications surrounding them, but that doesn't part them. It seems like a fairytale, but it's much deeper than that. In "Shadows Nevermore", Iris becomes the youngest doctor in psychology and reunites with her former professor after he's released from his position, until the events of Begins when Jonathan loses everything and becomes a patient. Now Iris is the head of Arkham Asylum and the highlight of all the Rogues - among being Edward Nygma, Jonathan's best friend since college years. Other characters include Joan Leland (Nygma's doctor and high school love), Alice Pleasance (Iris' best friend and half-sister), Jervis Tetch (Alice's fiancée), and others including an original of my own making who becomes a major villain much later.**

 **In terms of real actors and actresses for casting, alongside Cillian Murphy's alluring Dr. Crane is Alexandra Daddario (Percy Jackson, Texas Chainsaw 3D) as Iris, Amanda Seyfried as Alice, Cory Michael Smith (Gotham's Edward Nygma) as the Riddler himself, Kerry Washington (TV's Scandal) as Dr. Joan Leland, and unfortunately, I have no one as sweet Jervis. :( Nevertheless, these real people make the characters more believable.**

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me, and the actors I picked to play them (with the exception of the wonderful Cillian Murphy) are their own people. And thanks to my friends Vytina, nicsnort, Irishchick1982, Windblazer Prime and sarah1228. :)**

Prologue

Origins

Iris Mara DeLaine was born on the thirty-first of October in 1993 in Gotham City, New York. She was the only daughter of billionaire Marcus DeLaine and his wife, the world-famous model Maria Conveé who harbored a secret darker than you would ever imagine.

Marcus and Maria DeLaine were married in the summer of 1987 in a lavish Egyptian affair, attended by Marcus' Russian parents Andrey and Sylvia and a vast crowd of friends and colleagues, and some lucky fans of the model. The affair became the front page of the _Gotham Times_ \- but behind the closed doors of DeLaine Estate, the publicity did not match the union of the wealthy executive of DeLaine Towers and the model.

Maria DeLaine was diagnosed with a severe combination of bipolar disorders and narcissism, which her husband took note of not long after they were married; he tried to escape the marriage by meeting with a woman named Sophia Pleasance. A daughter was conceived, and the mother had tried to get Marcus DeLaine to acknowledge the child as the heir to the family company, but the child was not legitimate enough to inherit in the eyes of Maria DeLaine who soon discovered the affair and lashed out, striking the mother and trying to kill the child before being restrained by her husband. Once she was subdued, Maria schizophrenically slipped into seducing her husband back into bed, and a few years later, they had a daughter whom they named Iris and established her as legitimate and only heir - but the rumors of another daughter surrounded the family until Sophia Pleasance confirmed to the media for the whole city of Gotham to see.

The scandal did not damper Marcus DeLaine's reputation, however, nor did it affect Maria's and their daughter. What the public never uncovered was that Maria never intended to be a mother, choosing to never be around her own child and her husband escaping her hold once more - only after another series of affairs that didn't involve his former mistress Sophia, he passed away from HIV when Iris was only four years old, leaving her with her mother and grandmother, Marcus' mother Sylvia.

For sixteen years, there would be a cycle of abuse ranging from physical to emotional, overall psychological that became irreparable. Even her grandmother could not protect her at times no matter her tries.

When it became clear to her that the justice system would never accept her side and let her mother get away with her wrongdoings, Iris' rage and hatred for Maria and others around her as she progressed into a young woman festered and became who she was. One day she took her revenge against the one woman who destroyed her sanity, and she was free.

Iris' high level of intelligence guided her through Gotham State University at an outstanding pace. Graduating at the age of seventeen with a PhD in psychology - the youngest doctor in a lifetime - she moved on to care for the criminally insane at Arkham Asylum. She proved more exceptional than any other physician and therapist within the faded walls of the institution, the exception being her employer, partner, and former college professor Dr. Jonathan Crane, under whom she studied at the university before his disgrace for experimenting a hallucinogenic formula on a small group of his students who assaulted the girl when she was but fifteen years old.

Iris played a small role involved in her former teacher and mentor's further development of the fear toxin under the employment of the mysterious Ra's al Ghul, whom she encountered during her last months in college and trained under to defeat her opponents. With the help of the art of the ninja from the tutelage of Ra's al Ghul and Crane's teachings, Iris developed her own costumed identity that of her separate identity formed from her childhood trauma, the Empress.

Following her beloved mentor being incarcerated in his own asylum, the crown was passed on to Iris as its head doctor. She carried on his legacy as a "better successor than the madman" in the eyes of the hypocrites of society while maintaining her double life as the Empress. It was during this duration of time that the young woman realized her feelings for the man known as the notorious Master of Fear were no longer that of the schoolgirl she'd once been, and longed for more than companionship from Crane. Only to find that his "recovery" from the demons of his past no different than her own had to come first.

~o~

Born on November 22, 1983 in the rural countryside of Arlen, Georgia, Jonathan Thomas Crane was conceived out of wedlock.

When she was a young girl of seventeen years, Karen Crane fell in love with a man who only wanted sexual relations - and abandoned her upon learning she was pregnant. The young mother showed no love for her son even when she bore him, hence leaving him like her lover, his uncaring father, left them both before the child reached middle school years. This continued an equal decades-long span of abuse at the hands of his fanatically religious grandmother, who would often lock him in a dilapidated church of crows as "punishment" for his "sins".

The amount of cruelty and equal irreversible damage, too, went unchecked and fear-instilling with young Jonathan long before Iris DeLaine came into existence, and like his cherished student, Jonathan knew that he was meant to endure the pain on his own. He lived with the physical torture and verbal assault of his grandmother and classmates. Under the hard, stoic shell he displayed to the world, the pure loathing at his enemies grew stronger, and would later be used to exact revenge on his own.

Jonathan Crane was a young man when he finally killed his grandmother. Years of abuse had finally gotten to him, and so he did the one last resort before heading down the road to university. He killed her with what would later become his fear toxin, induced a heart attack and killed her in her own terror.

Similar abuse was at the hands of the other children at school, progressing into high school. Always called "scarecrow" for his appearance, Jonathan was tall and skinny, his clothing no better faring than his health. Even if anyone thought to help him, he never trusted anyone; he long ago abandoned accepting any help in the backwards town of Arlen. With no one as his one true friend, Jonathan Crane became a man and left the town of his painful past, harboring a dark secret filled with hatred and revenge...

Even as a man, he never achieved closure from murdering his abusive grandmother, never found the mother who abandoned him, never moved on from the torment of his classmates...as a young adult in university, he realized how alone he truly was, his cold shell melting as heat began to fester inside him. He had forgotten one thing a long time ago when he met his first real friend in college at Gotham State University.

He'd thought life at the university would grant him access to freedom to live on his own will, but as it exposed him more to the real world, he discovered that escape wouldn't be so easy. Of course, he met his first ever real friend at university, Edward Nygma - who would later become the puzzle-obsessed Riddler. When Jonathan started an uneasy friendship with the equally troubled Edward, the two young men shared their innermost darkest secrets and formed a bond unlike any other. But over the course of the four years of their unnatural bond, it was a battle of the two of them against their shared psychology professor who harbored an unhealthy obsession over Jonathan.

Jonathan finally received his PhD at the age of twenty-three years old, becoming the youngest professor of psychology at Gotham State University, and there he met Iris DeLaine, who was just thirteen years old and entering her first year of college. She enchanted him from the start even though she was a young teen and he a grown man of twenty-three, yet he feared a repeat of history like with his own beastly professor whom he had thought he could trust until that belief of helping him achieve his greatest desires was betrayed.

Young Iris was nothing like any of the other students he taught for the next two years. They shared more in common than he'd thought, much like he had with Edward, now coroner at the Gotham City Police Department. She confided in him with her great passion for knowledge and looked up to him as her mentor…and shared her dark past that was no different than his own. Soon, Crane came to the conclusion that the girl was special and deserved to achieve her goals. Safe to say that their relationship would in no way be that of his and his professor's.

Everything changed after Iris turned fifteen years old and was brutally assaulted by the jocks of the university…out in open public for all to see. No charges on the assailants were filed, much to the dismay, disgust, and enragement of Professor Crane. His star student was left in the dark once again, her pride and dignity stripped as his had been long ago, but Crane would not idly stand by and let the culprits get away with their crimes. Using the toxin he developed from childhood and continued on to the present, he extended Iris' knowledge of fear to help her, too, overcome her enemies as he had done so himself. Soon, Jonathan found himself feeling that she was destined for greatness.

Eventually, their activities were discovered when one of the alleged "victims" reported to the board, and Jonathan Crane was essentially fired from his position. Angered and embittered at the fact that there was no more justice in the world - not for him, not for Iris, not for anyone - he closed himself off from humanity for some time before he was discovered by Ra's al Ghul and arisen from the streets once more to the head of the Arkham Asylum. He was once more reunited with Iris, whom had grown into a beautiful, confident, assertive young woman with a PhD at seventeen - even better than he had ever done. It was then that Jonathan began to feel stronger feelings for her than he had before, and once again let her in on his schemes and activities as the Scarecrow and the Empress.

Jonathan refused to have his bright young colleague and former student be discovered as an accomplice in the Scarecrow's activities in the Ra's al Ghul incident in the Narrows, therefore taking the fall in it all. He was stripped of his title as doctor, his license revoked, and arrested by the Batman and the GCPD police and thrown into the wolves that were once his patients. His life resumed to be unbearable, as the patients he experimented on were hell-bent on taking their fun out on him for his experiments on them. But the targeting on him was prevented by the new director of the asylum, none other than Iris DeLaine.

Degraded to the level of the scum of the streets and again misunderstood by all of society - including the Batman - Jonathan was convinced he was never meant to be happy, looking back on growing up in Georgia, his hellish life under his former professor, his disgrace from GSU, and finally losing everything he dedicated his whole life to. But Iris DeLaine was his rock and his dark angel and heir to his unfinished work - if not the same as his own methods. She cared for him more than anyone else ever did, right next to Edward Nygma, who had been subsequently arrested by the Batman, too. Their friendship resumed within the asylum walls, and formed ties with Harley Quinn, the innocent, perky sidekick of the homicidal Joker, plant vixen Pamela Isley - otherwise known as Poison Ivy - and fellow physician Joan Leland, Nygma's high school sweetheart. The small group of the Rogues Gallery remained ever the closest of the villain alliances, and doctors Iris DeLaine and Joan Leland were ever their saviors and closest friends when no one else understood them.

Jonathan Crane lived in Arkham for two years, a prisoner in the one place that had been his kingdom. His misery intensified along with his insecurities and memories of the people that brought him to that place: His mother who couldn't keep her legs crossed, but then he wouldn't have been living and breathing. His grandmother, who encouraged his fascination and intrigue of fear by her own fanatical means. His classmates who scorned and ridiculed him. His college psych professor who used his desire to be great to his own advantage. Dr. Long and the board of directors at Gotham State, who took him away from young Iris. Ra's al Ghul, who tricked him into aiding him in destroying Gotham, something he never intended in the first place. The Batman, who took away his life from him.

Iris DeLaine was his salvation, his queen. Everything else in his life was all but a fading memory - she was all he had left. Jonathan Crane was not a man who lived with regret for what he'd ever done in his life - he was one who believed the ones who did him wrong were the ones who brought him to the padded walls he now resided in. And he knew it when no one else cared.

But now he longed to be free.

 **Both Iris' and Jonathan's profiles were inspired by Vytina's background on deviantart, "The Tale of the Empress" as well as her various fics which I love, and another in deviantart called "Little Boy Johnny" by Faceskinator, which tells of Jonathan's backstory. The tone is similar to Vytina's dark emotional version of this couple; I'm doing my best to stay true to that but otherwise giving something more erotic over the course, just as disturbing. I'll make sure no one forgets. ;) I've chosen to stay true, as well, to Jonathan's "Year One" origins which everyone still seems to love despite new incarnations, like the show Gotham, for instance.**

 **Jonathan's birthday, with the exception of the year, is my father's birthday, so that's where it came from. :)**


	2. The Bird and the Bloom

**So sorry for the weekly delay. I had just finished "The Doctor's Damsel", a Jonathan Crane/Rachel Dawes story that I am proud of, and I am also in the middle of a Star Trek: DS9 fic called "The Perfumed Garden", but this story has my full attention at the same time. :)**

 **This will include flashbacks introducing young Iris as well as when she later on met Jonathan Crane as her professor, and more events to come which I won't spoil. But when Iris was thirteen years old in Vytina's stories, she began to attend GSU and graduated at seventeen, earning her Doctrine, though. PhD makes it raise even more questions as to how she damned managed. XD Anyway, in terms of her and Jonathan's age differences, she was sixteen when she first gave herself to him and he was barely forty. In here, they have a ten year gap instead of twenty-two, or almost. And Vytina had an opulent image of the interior of DeLaine Manor that I took to heart and also advanced with real themes that blew me away - and will do the same to you. The exquisite detailings of the home Iris was born and grew up are also vital along the way, be it secondary or not. The more detail, the more real it is.**

Chapter One

The Bird and the Bloom

 _1997_

Every part of DeLaine Manor was of exotic themes, the opulent Persian carpeting running from the main doorway to the entrance of every doorway on the level; you wouldn't be surprised if the same carpet continued on the next level and then the next, given you saw it continue up the grand staircase, the luxurious silk design spilling about under the rich mahogany furniture and complimenting the ivory-and-gold walls. Bared sections of the floor checkered individual designs reminiscent of the Middle East and India. The top level overlooking the foyer had balconies carved into Moroccan arches and pillars, as were every individual doorway on the level of the foyer. The staircase itself was every bit a piece of art in Moroccan themes like the rest of the estate - the three-story manor each had an elevator of glass and gold on each of its floors for the individual or more who did not feel like taking the overwhelming steps up and down. Today the foyer, grand ballroom, and the living room were decorated with blacks and soft blues to mourn the passing of Master DeLaine from a long-term battle with the deadly disease that originated from Africa.

The mistress of the house was flocked by her late husband's fellow partners and businessmen, along with their wives and mistresses, and given condolences such as "I'm so sorry for your loss, Mrs. DeLaine" or "Will you be well?" Mostly she received praise for how fine she looked today, even better in person than on her latest magazine editions, as the guests said. The black chiffon dress she wore touched the floor and sheathed her classily elegant figure while the neckline plunged down in a V-shape to show off her voluptuously curved chest that caught the attention of male fans and readers and colleagues alike and stirred the pot of envy in females that desired a bust like that. The sheer sleeves were loose on her arms and showing the outlines if raised to light, the wrists and the front waist gather beaded cleverly as to not give her attire too much bling. Ebony black hair that she normal let run wild was now curled tightly and framing her face and shining lustrously from her highly expensive shampoo imported from France. Her face which had never seemed to age bore the signs of the grieving widow with her vivid green irises allowing tears as perfect as pearls down her sculpted cheekbones, her bloody red painted lips in a tight line quivering as though trying not to cry. No one in the room suspected it being a half-truth but one.

Mrs. DeLaine wasn't the only lady whose attention everyone was focused on; it was her young child, four-year-old Iris. Iris was the only child - the only child between the recently widowed Maria and her late husband who left her to pursue other women in every country, even fathered another with the mistress who opened her mouth to the papers and the newscasters. Nevertheless, no one told Iris any of this, and certainly not her mother. Aside from her family's scandalous reputation, the girl was slim and lithe with long black hair always in a soft updo and sometimes loose in a black waterfall down her back. Her eyes were the most vivid of blues ever seen, and you couldn't tell if she wore lipstick or not; her skin was soft ivory like her mother, with a faint hint of blush. Just like her mother, she was dressed to perfection with every available fabric that the mother herself, the grandmother - and mother of the recently deceased father - as well as the seamstress herself could grasp. Right now she was in a cute velvet black dress with puffy sleeves and a teal satin sash, her shoes polished black with stockings. Iris DeLaine was the center of attention besides her model mother - and unknown to all, Maria seethed with righteous jealousy.

Everyone seemed to view the DeLaine family as perfect once the late Marcus married Maria, but upon the revelation of his infidelities, the spotlight was on fire towards him and his wife, whose mental conditions were not for the public's eye to know so she could protect herself. And how it affected little Iris indefinitely. Beneath the rich, small dresses was an unhealthy pattern of scars and bruises, but there was no telling what the mother would do if she tried to tell anyone.

Not even a look into the little girl's eyes changed matters.

The funeral came and went, and the little girl was alone while her mother went to her dressing room to change. In the meantime, little Iris ran to her room and pulled out the painting she'd made with Grandma a couple days ago. It was of a woman standing before a royal blue and ebony moonlight over the ocean, gazing out at the horizon with wonder at what lay over there for her. The water was lined with white waves, the moon vivid and the woman's white dress, while the sky was a marvelous blend of the previously mentioned blue and black, touched with silver. The woman's black hair hid her face and flapped off to the side in the imaginative breeze. The child made her way down hallway which was her home to her mother's dressing room near the sitting area, where the woman was changing into her gown for the evening. The wall was covered with everything of Maria's modeling covers and shoots from inside the magazines, and this was her own personal space that Iris was not allowed to go to, but she was so excited that she didn't care right now. Her mother stood on the small circular lift, donning a marvelous purple silk dress with yet another floor-touching skirt, the neckline flaring over another V-shape to partially close. She was admiring herself that she didn't see the little girl come in, but as soon as she saw her in one of the many mirrors, she whirled around even at Iris' "Mother, look what I made for you -"

A sharp slap stung her face moments later. All of her enthusiasm was forgotten, the portrait out of her hands, and all she could hear was her mother's raging screams. "What is God's name is the matter with you, Iris? What did I tell you about coming in here?" Maria left her alone to pick up the portrait. "You think I care about your stupid little artworks? You think that just because your father is no longer here I would care about you, you stupid little beast?!" With that, she tore the picture in half, all of her and Grandma Sylvia's hard work together; if only the elder woman was here now so she could talk down her daughter-in-law like she always would.

"No, Grandma and I -"

Her mother's laughter was harsh and unpleasant. "Oh, you think _Grandma_ will be here to save you right now?" Another slap sent the child crying to the Hindu-tiled floor. "You little bitch, get out of here before I do worse to you!"

~o~

 _9 years later…_

Jonathan Crane felt a tad nervous, but it was short-lived. This was his first day teaching at Gotham State University, and here he was behind the desk that had once been his recently released professor's. He had been young and hopeful for a fresh start, eager to learn his lifelong favored subject which got him to where he was now, but these ones coming into his classroom had no idea what was truly out there. Nothing was given to them just like that, and sometimes hard work was not enough. Getting his position at the young age he was at rare out of the ordinary had been fraught with sacrifices and mild peril that had been risky nevertheless. But he was more than happy to leave this university and his beast of a professor who had deduced him to nothing more than a piece of trash just to get to where he was now. He had trusted the man long ago, but that was before the start of his freshman year. Now he was eager to move on, start fresh as he had been upon arrival here.

By then he noticed certain sport types he knew would not be expected to do well as he experienced their styles in his college days, as well as a few of the rarest that would actually pay attention in his class and get high grades. If not, then low ones to pay them back would keep him comfortable.

However, there was one that stood out against them all. A young girl of perhaps twelve or thirteen walked in, carrying books against her chest. Crane considered calling out to her and ask her if she came to the wrong class - or perhaps, the wrong school - but he might be wrong and assume she was one of his students. He suspected that she had a better mind like his own than any other. There was no way a child could have gone through what he'd done to get to this place. She was tall and thin like he was, her legs covered with slim black demins and a pair of black boots that reached the knees. A blue gingham shirt opened to reveal slim curves covered by a black tank tucked into her jeans. She had black hair like he did, long and thick, naturally curled at the tips, covering her ears, and her eyes - a vivid blue not unlike his own - were sharp…and sporting a sadness that no one else cared to notice.

Like himself, a long time ago.

"Hey, what's this kid doing in here? She ought to be in middle school!"

His class wasn't even full yet, and already he had one calling out - and targeting the girl his attention was on. The girl, however, ignored the speaker, a blonde girl with revealing cleavage and a tattoo heart over her right breast, lips painted bright red. He sneered at her, but she was too busy taunting the raven-haired girl who had gone to sit in the middle of the front row, probably close enough to her teacher who happened to be himself. He noted how she was good at keeping her face sharp and emotionless, reminding him of his younger self, even looked the female version of himself.

"That's enough, thank you," he snapped to the blonde in the middle to the right behind. "I will alert you that I do not tolerate bullying of any form in my classroom. Do I make myself clear?"

The girl stuck her tongue out but otherwise nodded. Crane snorted at her before looking at the younger one who was eyeing him intently as she opened her notebook as well as the classroom text, prepared to learn as he was more than ready to teach.

By the time class started, he spotted how halfway it was compared to how he imagined; it was no different than when his old professor was here. Some things never changed - but in time they would. "Good morning. I'm Professor Jonathan Crane, your new teacher given Dr. Victor Warner has recently retired from his post. But don't think," he warned, "that because of my age, I will make this easy on any one of you, and psychology is never a subject to be taken lightly..."

The entire time he spoke, he kept looking back at the girl in the front whose eyes matched his. Sometimes she looked up at him from writing and reading, catching on what he said as well, he imagined. There was a fire in her eyes that drew him to her, and she fascinated him. Already he saw she would be another one of his better ones; if there was a way to speak to her after his class ended...

The bell rang an hour and a half later, and the students were leaving. Crane walked back over to his desk to sit at his computer to work on his schedule and fill in on the students' progress so far, much of which he knew was lacking. And then he heard a crash, a sound of someone falling. Crane jerked his head up and saw that same girl on the ground, the same blonde he recognized as the same one who taunted her, and Jonathan had had enough. He stood up and strode their way. The blonde turned to run, but he grabbed her by the arm and bore his eyes down on her fiercely.

"I thought I made myself clear, Miss Rosenberg," he snapped. "It seems you wish me to enlighten you with an extension of a warning of the consequences." From the corner of his eye, he saw the black-haired girl rise and dust herself off, staring at him in amazement the whole time. "Or do you want an early expulsion for your bullying methods on a mere child?" He hadn't meant it that way, but the girl looked like she hated being called a child. She wasn't, by any means, but she was the youngest of all his students. A part of him wondered why she chose his class of all of them, not that it made a difference, really.

He released Mina Rosenberg and narrowed his eyes. "One more try, and I'll have you out. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," she said coolly before casting another sneer at the young girl before turning to leave. Now he was alone with this interesting little gem who looked at him courageously and curiously.

"I'd ask if you were okay, but we both agree that would be foolish," he told her. He couldn't help but feel that he'd seen her somewhere before...

She gave a humorless laugh as she straightened herself up. "I wouldn't say that, Professor. Yes, I'm fine. I've handled this before."

Jonathan clenched his jaw at the thought of her enduring what he would most definitely classify as his own childhood trauma. He saw it all clearly now even if he didn't know that much about her - much less her name. "I don't believe I caught your name, my dear."

"DeLaine. Iris DeLaine."

Awe struck him. Of course, the daughter of the world famous model Maria DeLaine, widow of prominent businessman Marcus DeLaine. The resemblance was uncanny. Of course, her facial features were natural compared to her mother's image he'd viewed on the magazine covers that he never wished to buy. Such beauty - results of plastic surgery - was a waste of time and money and imagery. Of course, striking perfection was the shield from the coldness that lurked behind. Maria passing off as a dazzling younger woman was the ideal sickening façade that he was against. But her daughter was an intriguing subject.

"A pleasure, Miss DeLaine," he answered politely, walking her out of the classroom. "May I ask if you selected a course for your future yet? I never would have thought a young face like yourself would be able to decide so soon, faster than the average human being."

"Because I'm not like everyone else, and the answer is psychology," she replied without a beat. "I've always been interested in unlocking the secrets of a person's mind and motivations - to see why they do the wrongs that they do to themselves and to other people."

"Like these mindless fools who shove you around for thrills?" Crane pressed. Her steps faltered but didn't stop. "Believe me, that's why I became a professor. To fill in these young minds, but I know very well that many won't accept my advice. I suppose they believe I'm too young," he added with a humorless laugh like she'd given him. She looked up at him with a curious frown.

"Age is just a number. Forgive me, Professor, but how old are you exactly?"

He should have been offended but the question, but he wasn't. "Twenty-three," he responded. "Last June, I graduated from here with my PhD. As far as I know, I'm the youngest professor ever to graduate from there," he answered proudly.

"Impressive." Jonathan admitted that he _was_ impressed with her use of language. Iris spoke like a true professional, unusual but perfect for a thirteen-year-old. "You must be good at what you do. I know I am."

Jonathan chuckled at her being so sure of herself - she meant every word, and he admired her for it. "Yes, I was good. But I also had help from my professor..." He trailed off as unpleasant memories swam before his eyes, and he brushed them off. "But I won't ever see him again. I had some bad experiences in spite of it all. Not that I hadn't before."

Iris stopped where she was and looked up at him in amazement. "You were bullied, too? Looks like we have more in common." She giggled to lighten the mood up.

"I was, but we shouldn't give away too many unpleasant details on the first day." Warmth arose in him, and it irritated him. Where in the name of all that was mental did that come from? She was only a girl of thirteen if not a mere child any longer - he could get arrested for these feelings, much less act upon them. But she was so lovely, lovelier than her mother...

"I should bid you good day, Miss DeLaine. And I look forward to seeing you tomorrow." He let the doors shut behind them and nodded.

"To you, too." He watched her go, watched as her long hair swished softly. He furrowed his brow as he recalled their conversation. Based on his own experiences and all he knew so far about Iris DeLaine, he was sure there was home trouble with her mother, that beautiful Maria witch that every insipid female would die to be like. He felt like he had to protect the girl. To shield her from further cruelty of the world, to keep her safe from anyone who dared to hurt her.

~o~

 _Was he dead?_

 _He opened his eyes, but his vision was black as night. He tried opening his mouth only to find that it was already open and his lips were painfully stretched by the leather strap gagging him. Turned out that his eyes were blindfolded, as well, so he couldn't see his surroundings. He also felt, rather than saw, that his body had been stripped nude and trapped to a chair. Cold air wisped at his bare torso and back, and he longed to be covered to warm himself up and hide his modesty. Whatever sick bastard did this was going to pay for this - but his arms and legs were trapped. His wrists were held down to the armrests on either side of him by more leather straps, same for his ankles on the chair legs. Based on the amount of pressure his bindings applied to holding him down so he wouldn't run, even the slightest or heaviest squirming or jerking would draw blood._

 _Where the hell was he, and why was he here?_

 _And who did this to him?_

 _Then he heard a voice. A voice he remembered all too well. A voice he'd longed to forget._

 _"There will be no need for struggling, my boy. The slightest movement will let you bleed yourself on this floor."_

 _He tried to demand what this beast wanted with him, but his shouts came out as muffled, and the man laughed. "I've imagined you were wondering when we would meet again, Jonathan. Today is that day. I've been watching you ever since you half destroyed my mind and cost me my power and position, and escaped my clutches. We were having the time of our lives, and you left me hurt deeply. I helped you achieve your dreams, and look what happened: You threw it all away for a life of crime. Despite all the advantages you were given, you chose the life of a scumbag. Well, now's the time to give you a lesson. Resume our positions as student and teacher once more."_

 _He screamed through his gag as he felt something long and thick push into him against his will from behind the backless chair..._

~o~

 _Today_

It was the sweating and gasping that roused Jonathan Crane abruptly from his nightmare. Only it didn't seem like a dream - it seemed so _real_. These nightmares and memories had been getting worse each night every time he slept. He would always awake choking back his own screams and sweating more than he would under a desert sun. And his noises always awoke his cellmate across from him.

"Jon? Hey, Jon, are you all right?"

Jonathan sat up in his bed and drew his legs up to his knees to hide his moist face from his cellmate, fellow Rogue, and best friend since college. Edward Nygma was always watching him and never letting him out of his sight, making sure nothing happened to him like he used to in their school years - sometimes it irritated him, other times he was grateful because Eddie was the only real friend he'd ever had in his life besides Iris, who right now was at home asleep in her bed at whatever time it was now. Really, he wanted to talk to her now. She would be frustrated at this ungodly hour of the night, but all Jonathan wanted was to hear her voice. Eddie seemed to read his mind. "You had another nightmare."

"And I want to talk to Iris," Jonathan answered. "Can you break us out again?"

Eddie sighed and slipped out of his bed that resided against the opposite wall from Jonathan's. "You know you're not exactly getting any better with all these dreams. You should ask Iris about a dream suppressant, nevermind that you'll go from no dreaming." He reached under his pillow for the lock pick he kept in case of "emergency". "But the main woman comes first," he said with a triumphant grin.

~o~

Someday she would have to kill herself, or worse, whoever was dialing her at this ungodly hour of the night. The ringtone that was part of the song she shared with passionate interest with the man who had been her professor and mentor in college, and her boss and colleague not too long ago, did not help matters either.

 _Anol shalom (Almighty freedom)_

 _Anol sheh lay konnud de ne um (Almighty freer of the soul)_

 _Flavum (Be free)_

 _Nom de leesh (Walk with me)_

 _Ham de nam um das... (Through the golden fields…)_

 _La um de (So lovely)_

 _Flavne… (Lovely)_

Iris groaned and reached up to switch on the teal-shaded crystal chandelier lamp on her nightstand before grabbing her mobile and seeing who the caller was. She frowned; why was the hospital calling her at one in the morning? And then it hit her: _Jonathan must have had another nightmare._ She pressed the talk button and tried not to sound too sleepy. "Jonathan, it's one in the morning."

 _"I'm sorry, Iris,"_ he responded. _"I just needed to hear your voice."_

His weary voice and seeping childlike vulnerability always got to her. Ever since his exposure to his own fear gas, Jonathan was ridden disastrously with nightmares and psychological stress than his childhood life had inflicted on him - or in her professional opinion, just as bad. It wasn't his fault; she would never blame him like everyone else did. Iris had been taking care of the asylum and his legacy for him ever since then, and she hated the Batman, that night rat, for what he'd done to Jonathan. Most of all, she hated him for this and that. Everyone looked up to him as their savior. He used his fists to settle a dispute, never once stopping to delve deeper into the problem.

"That's what's important in the eyes of the civility of this world," Ra's al Ghul had told her once. "It separates us from them. In their eyes, it's simply black and white. In truth, beneath the surface, it's gray, but no one sees fit to see that area of the truth." Not that she never knew that from experience.

"Did you have another nightmare?" Iris asked gently, sitting up in the bed, keeping the silk covers drawn to her chest to hide the many areas of skin exposed.

"Yes. They're getting worse. And more vivid. I feel like I can't escape them no matter what. I feel if this continues, then perhaps I _am_ insane. I've been in this place for two years; two years and nothing changed. I doubt I'm meant to leave this hellhole."

Then she heard Edward's voice, obviously. "Yea, Iris, I know that's right. We were all people who loved everything we did, but no one understood us, unlike you and Joan."

"Eddie, I don't know why I ever agreed to let you two be the exceptions to sneak out of your cells at this hour of the night to phone me. If anyone ever found out, I'll be sued for this," Iris joked, tucking her hair behind her ears. "And it's a good thing I let you two share the same cell as I did with Red and Harley for their…late nights that Joker doesn't know about." She paused to grin at their groans at the images produced, then yawned. "Listen, go back to your cells, and I'll see you two tomorrow."

Jonathan's voice came back on the line. "I will. Good night, my little flower goddess," he purred into the speaker, and she giggled. She loved it when he called her the pet name he used for her back at Gotham State and when he still ran Arkham, stating that she'd been named for the Greek goddess of the rainbow. Iris put the phone back down and turned off the lamp to continue her sleep, and when she did, she dreamt back to a day that she got everything she ever wanted, and on that day it had been a good thing she did, for it brought her further down the path that one man who ever worshipped her had helped her set her foot on.

Even if it meant spilling the blood of her most notorious adversary.

~o~

 _6 years ago…_

Five years ago she was the youngest high school student at the tender age of twelve to come to Gotham State University with the desire to study psychology and perhaps become a doctor - and now she had.

And now she was at the reception party after giving her valedictorian speech which had gone rather smoothly, wearing a spaghetti-strapped black dress with a pleated skirt, the bodice overlaid with black lace, and teal satin under the bust. Her hair was in its natural wave and flowing down lightly over her shoulders, her spiraling diamond chandelier earrings glittering star-bright in her ears, her silver ivy-and-leaf arm band also spiraling softly on her left forearm, and her cherished opal teardrop pendant on its black chord resting gently against her heart. Never in her life would she wear any other necklace but this. It had been given to her by someone very near and dear to her…who was no longer here. Had not been here in a long, terrible year.

Seventeen years old and she had accepted who she was. All her life she tried to be someone else, disregard her inner spirit altogether, but another man - not just the one who gave her this necklace - had helped her embrace it. She felt stronger than she was then, and now she was ready to change things.

She had been born into a wealthy family that had begun from scratch and worked its way to the top, but that wasn't a destiny of her own to make despite it being laid for her. Her sister could take that torch for her while she could pursue her own path, but one certain evil-spirited individual was the only thing in their way. She was one step ahead and always smiling at their pain, still seeking the destruction of not only Iris but of Alice because of who her mother was. Iris had not been the least bit surprised years before when she learned of her late father's unfaithfulness, but his reasons were justified because of what kind of a woman Maria was. Their family hadn't been destroyed by the scandal leaked out by Sophia, but she could only imagine how Alice must have gone through while she worked as a mere secretary for one of the kindest men Iris had ever met - and she could see had soft eyes on Alice who already had a boyfriend, who was actually what Iris loved to call a lizard because he scaled his way into anything he wanted and just thought he could smooth talk only to lash out his tongue to catch the fly.

Iris was ready to move on. She got her PhD, she was ready to have a home of her own, to begin her job offered at Arkham Asylum, but there were a couple of things to handle.

"Oh, Iris, I'm so proud of you!" Alice pranced over and swept the smaller girl up in her arms for a spin-around hug. "And you're so beautiful! I can't believe the day finally came and is over with!"

Iris grunted at the pressure of her former roommate and half-sister by her father but laughed anyway. "Alice, I swear you get more excited about the tiniest things any person I know."

The older girl in a shorter, sexier, body-hugging dress of light blue with a V-neck-like bandage front over the cleavage shook her head, her wide smile still in place. "And I have a right to be. My little sister is better than I ever will be, stronger she was when I couldn't be from my own mother." Sophia Pleasance was a domineering, gold-digging woman who always pushed her only daughter to the top, but Alice had so far managed to survive. Safe to say, though, Alice had more self-esteem issues than Iris did. The raven-haired girl scoffed and shook her head.

"Nonsense," Iris said, returning the hug much more gently. "You're as powerful as I am on the inside, but it takes more willpower to stand up to it. I'm always right, remember? No one tells me otherwise."

"Except for myself."

She felt like she had frozen to subzero at the sound of the familiar voice she had not seen or spoke to in four years, and just like that, it was back. She started from the bottom and worked her way up when she took in the long navy blue skirt covering long legs, glimmering satin and dark as midnight, hugging sculpted curves, and the bodice and long sleeves were both sheer sparkles of silver but still hiding erogenous parts left to the poor imagination of the one who loathed her most in the universe. Ebony curls measure to be about three feet long spiraled over both shoulders but tucked behind ears to reveal lustrous pearl and diamond earrings, the rest flowing down to the middle of the arched back. A heart-shaped face no different than Iris' possessed high cheekbones as well as vibrant emerald eyes outlined with black mascara and navy powder, and the lips painted a red so vivid it looked like blood. Nothing about Maria DeLaine had changed in the last four years; Iris had heard that her mother had still done well, but not once bothered to call her or ask her for anything.

"I never thought I would see the two of you together," Maria said as she begrudgingly held the sight of them together, one her daughter and the other the illegitimate "parasite" as she called Alice. "Is your mother here, by any chance? If I so much as see her as I see you..."

"She isn't here, Mother," Iris said coldly, "so your fears aren't at fruition." A long time ago when she told Professor Crane that she hoped her mother at least had a small amount of humanity left that they would reconcile one day, but he had proved her wrong. He'd explicitly said that people like Maria DeLaine were beyond redemption. He had been right, because now her mother stood before her and looked her the same way she always had.

"Certainly," Maria responded icily, her expression unchanged. "In that case, I look forward to tonight when you come home. It's been a long...time after all." She said no more, just turned and walked away with her hidden heels clicking behind her.

It was then that Iris finally noticed, after her mother left, a familiar face hiding off in the shadows and away from the view of the collaborating guests.

"Ra's," she said once she snuck away from the guests. "I wasn't expecting to see you here so soon."

"I had to buy some time and see the next step of one of my great pupils' life," her mentor in the art of the ninja replied with a tight smile. "You look beautiful. Pity your mother regards herself with false beauty." He then frowned. "I'm curious as to why you haven't offed her yet as you promised."

"I was waiting for the right time," Iris answered, folding her arms across her chest. "And tonight is the time."

He smiled down at her. "Miss DeLaine, when I first met you, you were without your teacher who took you into his arms and nursed you back to health after those thieving fools deprived you of your dignity just as you reclaimed it. But your dear professor helped you, but then he was sent away from you. And I helped make you stronger physically. Now's your time to finish what you started. Use your anger and hatred to take what your mother deprived you of."

Months ago when Iris first met Ra's al Ghul, she had no idea how he knew about her, but she imagined he was the one to help her in her journey. And he shaped her into a stronger image than she was then. He and Professor Crane were the reasons she created herself a symbol of the darkness and the power that burned greater than before.

"Feel free to come by my home tonight. Mother demands I be home for the night, and you know I am the only heir to DeLaine Towers, but I shall pass it on to dear Alice. I have a greater path ahead of me, and I refuse to back down. You taught me everything, so come home with me and witness my moment of triumph."

When she spoke those dark words, they burned on her tongue better than mellowed whiskey.

~o~

 _Hours later..._

Cops were now swarming DeLaine Manor. Pictures were taken, evidence gathered - signs of "forced break-in" confirmed via window locks busted - but no missing items, it turned out. Iris now sat at the bottom of the grand stairs, wrapped up in a blanket provided to her by Sergeant Jim Gordon, who kindly asked her the questions regarding the "break-in" and the brutal mutilation of the woman who'd called herself a mother, known to the world as the great beauty who'd ever existed.

Now she was nothing more than a bloodied mess of what she was, lying in a sprawled mess on the fine Indian floor.

"I don't know who would do this," Iris choked, putting on her best act. "Or why they would do this. It's my graduation day, and she dismissed the servants so it would be just me and her tonight, and we both thought it was safe. But…"

Gordon cut her off with a gentle shush and a dab of a tissue at her eyes in a fatherly manner. He gave her a small smile. "This was not your fault. It's this city - it's falling apart. Maria was a good woman; she was a gem of the earth."

 _If only he knew_ , Iris thought as she took one last look at the corpse of her mother - her best handiwork, in fact. All her own doing. She'd cleaned herself up before the police had arrived, washed her new costume and put it away herself, and hid away all the evidence that would point in her direction. While Maria had been flawless in life, now she sported several oozing wounds, her perfect face splattered with blackening blood and lying in an equal pool of it…and a gigantic wound punctured to her heart and stomach - all the work of a scythe. Now a young paramedic threw a clean white sheet sure to get filthy with the red oozes over the body, never to be seen again. Iris inwardly smirked. Mission accomplished.

 **I kept a lot of what Vytina had of the main DeLaine Manor, including the glass elevator; as common sense speaking, it's very generous despite the fact the master and mistress of the house were far from it. Middle Eastern and Moroccan themes are present throughout the rest of the house over the course as we dig deeper. The original DeLaine Manor was also six stories high, but I cut it to three for the sake of it.**

 **A lot of Iris' backstory was based off of "Descent into Darkness", including her mother pushing her over the edge in which she finally killed her in the end - including the issue with the portrait little Iris made which I slightly altered and included her grandmother in this; Sylvia is active more than she was known in previous stories. We never really see Iris become the Empress in costume other than seeing her "split self" in a mirror not long after murdering Maria, but Vytina's profile "The Tale of the Empress" on deviantart is accurate enough and promising. :) It makes sense, as well, that Ra's al Ghul discovered her somehow and eventually learned of her former professor that his interest is piqued.**

 **The song on Iris' ringtone is "Now We Are Free" by Lisa Gerrard, the theme song from the 2000 movie Gladiator. There are other versions of this magical song by other performers like Celtic Thunder, Kelly Sweet, Lisa Kelly, Lisa Cannon, Enya and Triniti, as well as Gregorian.**

 **Maria DeLaine, who will appear only in flashbacks, is portrayed by actress Rachel Weisz, known in the Mummy series with Brendan Fraser, as well as her astonishing portrayal as Evanora in "Oz the Great and Terrible"; "The Lovely Bones" is also among, "Definitely, Maybe" and so many others.**

 **Read and review. :)**


	3. Blade of Glory

**This chapter is shorter and takes the time to get to know Iris' character in the details of her room which had once been her mother's and now her own - but not before we see WHAT she did to her mother. ;D In "Descent into Darkness", the details of torture couldn't have been any juicier.**

 **Early on when I asked her permission, Vytina stated that Iris was hers so that made her protective, which I understood. But what Iris does to her mother in this flashback will make you cringe more than what happened originally, and not just what was shown in the last chapter. You've been warned.**

Chapter Two

Blade of Glory

 _She towered over the unconscious form of her mother in the basement far beneath the reaches of DeLaine Manor. Maria had been in her room changing into her dressing gown for the evening - which was still on her, that exquisite red lavished with a colorful Chinese floral design - when Iris paid one of the last of the maids in the house to give Maria her refreshment for the evening before retiring for the night - smooth white wine filled with a small dose of a sleeping drug she'd cooked herself. The sooner she drank down the last of the pale gold substance, the sooner she was out like the dead, and Iris, garbed in all black leather to avoid leaving prints, dragged her out of the dressing room and into the basement for the fun to really begin._

 _As a little one, this was the room where Maria would often lock her daughter in for any time she saw fit. Like a fairytale where the princess was locked away by the wicked witch herself, like an underground version of Rapunzel, whose hair was much longer and more fairer than Iris' ever was. This was a barren room save for a single mattress on the floor and no pleasantries like a blanket and pillow, as well as an operating table which held the specimen herself strapped down; she'd gotten this with help from the man himself who came to join the party at her request. No light fixtures except the overhead sun lamp over the table in which an unconscious Maria was slowly coming to._

 _Tonight was where she would get her retribution. Maria would know the true feeling of pain and suffering. And finally…ultimately…death._

 _Maria was looking around in horror now, gasping and trying not to cry as she saw herself surrounded with darkness and blinded by overhead "sunlight". Iris smirked as she hid in the shadows of one corner. Ra's was hidden in one of the others, watching the show like an unseen audience member. Maria was scared now, more of the unknown and whoever was planning something for her. "Where are you? Who's there? Show yourself!"_

 _"Mother, show some originality. Don't you remember those questions make you weaker?"_

 _The model knew_ her _voice when she heard it. "Iris. Iris, you little bitch." Her mean streak was back as anticipated. "Whatever you are planning, you haven't got the guts -"_

 _"Shut it, whore," Iris snarled as she stepped out of the shadows and towered over the woman who called herself a mother. "In case you haven't noticed, you're in no position to make dire threats. I'll be doing what I should have done a long time ago, but then it would have been too sudden I would have regretted it much later on, like now."_

 _She grinned maliciously then as she showed herself in the outfit she'd designed especially for herself - a halter leather corset of Gothic style, slimmed down to flatter her figure, and the straps lifting her bust to accentuate the small plumpness of her breasts, complete with elbow-length leather gloves. Skinny rocker style leather pants rose low to her hips, the heeled boots over her feet standing out with the wrap-around chained straps. "I gave you a small enough dose to knock you out, tie you up, and then get myself dressed for the occasion." She gestured to her new getup with one hand, the other on her hip in a pose. "How do you like my new look, Mummy dearest?"_

 _"You look like nothing more than a street hooker," Maria spat, and Iris hissed with anger and crossed over in one stride and took her mother by the collar of her robe and drew her forward roughly so they made eye contact._

 _"I would watch your tongue if I were you, and that is the last warning you will ever receive. Do I make myself clear?"_

 _Maria whimpered again, which made her stir below that Dr. Crane had taught that the feeling of fear from the victim would give her: stimulation. Ra's also had taught her how to bask in the fear of other men and women. "I'm your mother, and you shouldn't treat me like this."_

 _Iris laughed at her feeble attempts for control in her tied-down state. "'Mother'? Oh, please, with what you did to your own daughter?" She leaned forward so her chest was revealed enough to show the parallel scars given when she was only seven years of age. "Look at this, you call this the responsibility of a mother? This is the work of a_ monster. _Ever since Daddy died and Grandma Sylvia tried to take me away from you only for your custody to always win in the end. You were never a true mother, my conception being the result of you getting back at Daddy for leaving you for another woman who bore him a child before me. No one even thought about how little Iris appeared so meek and quiet, frightened of other people and always very cold, but they called it her own fault...never suspecting you, Maria._ _But we both know what you love to do when anyone crosses you, and I'm the perfect example, aren't I? Spending all my life hating myself for being born, you manipulating me at every turn just to take your revenge and keep yourself as spotless that you are_ NOT _!" She screamed, reaching and striking her mother across the face, finally drawing out a sob. She'd been speaking so softly all this time that at the last word, she chose to raise her voice as a last-minute decision._

 _"But you know what happened when I turned thirteen years old and left high school despite similar treatment at school because I was so young and so brilliant? The most handsome, most equally intelligent man took me under his wing because I was just like him even though he was ten years older than I, and he was just starting teaching not long after leaving college himself. Dr. Jonathan Crane, my very own psychology professor - until something equally dreadful happened to me that he helped me get my revenge until one of the 'victims' opened his mouth and got him taken from me. He lost his place because of me, but that hasn't stopped me, Mommy dearest," she leered, drawing back and reaching to her belt for the most beautiful, deadly-looking knife ever made in Japanese art. The handle was the miniature version of a samurai sword, black accented with silver, and the blade itself was carved backwards._

 _"After Jonathan left me, I began to train myself, all alone." This was a lie, but Maria didn't need to know that. "Ninjitsu and all forms of Asian combat, but more mysterious and skilled than you think. Nothing you need to know, only what I am capable of doing to you. Because..." She walked around the end of the table and back around until she leaned over Maria's face, her hair falling into a thick black curtain over one side of her face, shielding from the other side but allowing Ra's, her mentor, to see on the other, which displayed his student's malicious grin as she lovingly dragged the graceful blade along the inside of Maria's left leg, dragging the skirts up and increasing each whimper as the tip approached its destination. "...you desecrated my sanity and my body with your abusive, beautiful hands a long time ago, and I'll make sure_ THIS -"

 _She'd reached the juncture of her mother's thighs, disgusted that she'd even thought about this part, but this was one important part where Maria was most vulnerable that she would savor every bit of this and make it quick at the same time. Just to hear her mother scream and bleed. And when she found the sensitive flesh at the start, she wasted no time in doing just that. Blood heated her hand through the glove within moments, and Maria's screams were so loud they made her ear drums explode._

 _"- is desecrated as well. Wasn't that glorious to feel, Maria? Don't think I will stop there, because more is to come..."_

~o~

Her phone had the alarm of Eden's Bridge to wake her at five-thirty in the morning. Iris' morning routine consisted of awaking, bathing, then dressing and grabbing herself a cup of tea made by Jervis and then a bagel and making her way out the door for the asylum. Jervis Tetch was a friend of Jonathan's since before the latter was committed to the very asylum he once ran, as well as of Iris' because he used to be the employer of her sister; Iris allowed him to move into DeLaine Manor following the engagement a few weeks ago, which had become hers since Maria's "untimely" death.

After she killed her mother, Iris had gone to lengths to blaming it on a breaking in and killing off the world famous model. No evidence pointed to her, and it had all worked so brilliantly. At seventeen then, Iris had become a wealthy young heiress. Now at only twenty-three, she was the wealthy head doctor at the very asylum her mentor had once directed. She was envied by many at the asylum for it, even whispered about that she was "following in the footsteps of that madman", and it angered her - no, it _pissed_ her off. How _dare_ they call her Jonathan that when they had _no damn idea_ about the whole story? But as much as she despised them, she'd learned to live with it. Sometimes she considered firing them, but the results would be too drastic and not so sweet.

Alice had resigned from her secretarial position at Wayne Enterprises and was now executive of DeLaine Towers. She had gone back to school and earned her Masters, having been more than happy to accept the position in order to be closer to her little sister. Jervis continued to work in the electronics division of Wayne Enterprises - secretly at night, he was the toy tinker for the Empress.

 _Rise, rise O sleeper_

 _Rise, rise O sleeper_

She turned off the alarm booking her favorite part of _Into the Light_ and then slipped out of the stately four-post bed to grab her robe - sheer black silk chiffon trimmed with satin - to cover her bare body. Iris had been sleeping naked ever since she was nine years old and beginning to hit puberty, particularly at the time to let her various injuries breathe, but by the time she got into GSU, it was who she was...and a part of her wished Jonathan could see her, but the other was worried he'd be disgusted at the various scars from Maria.

She crossed over to the window to throw open the opulent black velvet curtains to let in the rising sunlight, illuminating the room that was in the colors of black, teal, and ivory, then turned around to regard the master bedroom that had been renovated years before to fit her and her only.

Said stately bed was majestic and outmatched any king or queen's sleeping place and every expensive antique. Such a fashion like this was not found anywhere else. It had been carefully constructed using birch solids and veneers all bathed in a warm finish and intricate carvings, old-world craftsmanship, and modernism - the dresser and nightstand had been crafted the same way. All three pieces had once been warm cherry wood, now painted black to match the dark side of her soul. The silk bedding overlapping was black and teal - her colors - with the black parts in rich diamond patterns of damask. The bed rested on a rug of ivory florals and green vines and leaves against an evening-colored background, which was cut off to reveal an ivory marble floor brushed with black streaks. The dresser resting against one of the black walls had a mirror of fine ebony wood carved into that of a graceful swan whose wings uplifted to surround the oval glass - perfect looking glass for a fairytale castle. Next to that dresser was a French door leading into the bathroom, which was of Greek and Roman themes.

The Greek-themed bathroom boasted a grand appearance and amazing designs, bearing a timeless appeal. When DeLaine Manor was first built with its countless rooms and countless cultural themes, with the master bathroom, adding a touch of Greek influence to the bathroom design. The neutral tones in the walls, floors, and the columns that lined the walls and vanities were creamy sand bases that gave a beach vibe. The garden tub in the middle of it all with the top marble surface of black that also accented the floors enhanced the Greek appeal. Furthering enhancing the theme were marble fixtures in classic Roman cuts - faucets and handles were fixed in copper. In the free standing cabinets and closets of black painted wood - for a more modern, popping-out look - the basic necessities were neatly stored, giving the room a tidy appeal. The dark brown and gold patterned sinks with statuesque bronze faucets were sure to take the occupant back to ancient Greece.

Iris turned on the copper faucets to the decent heat level she preferred - not too warm, but not too hot either. When Maria still ran the show, she had uses of hair and body products imported from out of the country at ridiculous prices, but her daughter held interest in Moroccan products. The hair formulas were precious blends of Moroccan oils that penetrated the hair shaft and restored shine and softness while strengthening. Derived from the southwestern region of Morocco, the oils protected the hair from damage while creating soft, seductive, silky perfection.

Finally, Iris would pamper her body - the canvas of pale flesh having faint traces of scars on her back that were fading due to surgeries after inheritance, but her breasts bearing parallel scars inwardly for the fact that her dark side was free at last - with lavish creamy moisturizing lotion also made of Moroccan oils, with willow bark to soften and give a radiant glow along with rice milk and bamboo extract to make the skin supple and touchable all over.

Now that her hair was treated and her body restored, she was ready to dress for work.

The first thing she would do before she would dress was dry and put on her robe once more and reenter her bedroom and head for the distinctive, nostalgically crafted stereo console that stood on the right side of the antique floral accented fireplace black as the rest of the furniture. The completed version of _Into the Light_ filled the room as she headed into the closet on the other side of the fireplace.

 _There's a distant voice, an awakening cry_

 _For a land in darkest night_

 _And it calls you now to shed the past_

 _And move into the light_

The doorway, rather than a pair of double doors, was obscured by a changing screen of Japanese motifs and themes. The background was black and overlapping with orange clouds tinted with brown, the exotic cherry blossom trees sporting bright pink blooms, and cranes flapped their wings to the sky while others remained hustling about the paradise around them. Behind the screen was her organized walk-in wardrobe: the shelves and organizers were also painted black storing everything she needed, suits and dresses for work hung next to the column of shelves to her left where her shoes were kept - she never needed many pairs, only heels from high to low and sandals whether they were flat platforms or heels, all of them black, and the boots in the long, shelfless space beneath them - and then her casual wear out of work, and finally her formal wear to the charities and galas she was forced to attend. Of course, she didn't mind attending those parties, but only if they literally meant business for the people. Not that much of anyone cared anymore, except for few like Bruce Wayne and Miranda Tate.

She selected a promising underset - the bra and low-rise bikini white satin with romantic black lace trim - after discarding her robe to the ground. Next was a pristine white cotton blouse that she left unbuttoned by three to show her chest if not everything, and then a black blazer she, too, preferred open and finally straight-legged black pants and pumps with three-and-a-quarter-inch heels. Iris was all set and ready, just a few more things to throw on, which wasn't too much.

 _Let your heart be clean as you search for Him_

 _And seek for what is right_

 _For where darkness reigned now the dawn will break_

 _As you move into the light_

Iris DeLaine wasn't narcissistic about her looks like her mother had been, but she did believe in keeping up appearances because she was a woman, and only sought to look her best the way she saw fit as long as she was comfortable. So if anyone ever wondered about her hair in terms of professionalism, she would go for either her raven waves wild and free, or the chignon style that was a perfect replacement for the old bun by simply twisting the hair, combing it back neatly then rolling it inwards making sure the ends were tucked in and secured with about ten hairpins, before finishing it with a layer of hairspray. Today she had chosen the latter.

 _Rise, rise O sleeper_

Not much jewelry was required, not that she ever cared for much to begin with. For special occasions, she would go for chandelier earrings, but daily she would wear studs in her ears - notably white pearls placed in the front with black diamond solitaire studs. All of her accessories were kept in a vivid, teal-colored personalized box with frosted flower etchings across the lid's surface, the face scripted with her name of _Iris M DeLaine_. Next came her next beloved pieces that she would never once take off except for a bath or bedtime, one gift being from Jonathan: the teardrop-shaped opal on its black chord he gave her for her fifteenth birthday, and the ring she wore on the middle finger of her right hand, the striking black diamond in the middle of an intricate silver frame from her grandmother when she first got accepted into Gotham State.

 _Bring your heartfelt thanks to the Lord of all_

 _In the name of Jesus Christ_

 _Make righteousness and truth your goal_

 _As children of the light_

There was no real need for eye makeup as well as liner, because with the way her popping irises were lined naturally with black that it was hard to distinct. Add in the fact that her lips were naturally dark and rosy, all she needed was clear gloss for a shine, and she was too proud of her cheeks to pinch for color.

Finally came her favorite perfume. She had only two kinds - one for daily wear, and another for a special occasion. The one she chose for today that was her favorite was named "Dark Obsession", a shiny black glass, both the lid cap and the bottle in the shape of a sea fan. The scent was passionate, with calla lilies, irises, musk, and roses. With a spray on each side of her neck, she was ready to go. And she couldn't wait to see Jonathan.

But most of all, after receiving that phone call, she was concerned for his well-being more than ever.

 **I had done so much research on EVERY little detail in Iris' bedroom - even the bathroom details, the closet and all the little bits like her bath products and makeup, jewelry, etc. - everything from real life makes it that much more real, like I said early on. :) Her current perfume is also a real life one named Dark Obsession, but not in the mentioned bottle described. Anything else in her house and any specific location later on, I don't need to say where I got them.**

 **The song she plays every morning is also a real song, "Into the Light" by Eden's Bridge.**

 **What Iris also did to her mother when she was seventeen was the opposite form of castration; that is man's form, but it's obvious WHAT Maria got from her own daughter. :O I won't repeat the anatomical correct term, though.**


	4. Roommates

**On livejournal, I read this wonderful story called "The Boundaries of Friendship" by kojonoyuri, a Bruce Wayne/Jonathan Crane story which tells how much deeper the friendship/relationship between Batman and the Scarecrow runs that much deeper. A year after the events of TDK, Bruce arrives at Arkham because of Jonathan who had been his short-lived friend in college at Princeton, and they shared the same psychology professor who "harbored an unhealthy obsession with Jonathan". It was really dramatic once Bruce was expelled from Princeton for trying to protect his friend from the professor's advances, so it should be obvious what the creepy old man got once his obstacle was out of the way. It was that entire experience and the friendship between the Bat and the Crow that inspired me for Edward and Jonathan in here - and the friendship of these two was also present in "The Boundaries of Friendship" as well as so many other fics. That story also is a wonderful attempt to try to get Jonathan to put the demons of his past behind and move on, but we all know it won't end well - and the results are catastrophic when he learns Bruce's dual identity.**

Chapter Three

Roommates

She sat behind her desk while Jonathan was brought in by Carl, one of her favorite orderlies. Favoritism in public was frowned upon and criticized, so she could not let anyone know verbally or make it blaringly obvious to anyone else in Arkham other than her patients - those she trusted, at least. Jonathan Crane knew this as well as he knew her.

This office had once been his; now it was hers. Like all of Arkham, it was sleek white and modernized. Before his rule, the place had been decrepit in certain areas and falling apart; Iris had a brilliant vision of interior design but could not become a designer as it would only do so much for her, as modeling would never be hers. The walls were just as white as everything else, but the floor and furniture contrasted nicely while giving the room a light and airy feel and a cool modern touch. The floor was rustic oak with a highly glossy shine - clear vinyl as a surface protection - and set with a rug under the desk and the black leather chair before it for patients and visitors. The six-foot tall, three-feet wide bookshelf with glass doors to protect the contents inside provided eight shelves and contained almost every volume of psychology and phobias that Jonathan had gotten his hands on - and saved for her so that the police or the Batman would not get a hold of - and was as black as the frames hanging behind the desk, with the diplomas and certificates of achievement, as well as the filing cabinet and the desk and chair.

The desk and chair themselves were also black as the patient-visitor one - the desk being L-shaped and marble instead of wood for more style, the drawer storage intact, and the chair adjustable leather - and sporting the brand new LG computer and flat screen fixated on the wall just above the desk to its right - facing Iris when she sat down in the comfortable leather chair, of course. She dropped her folder - Jonathan's file - on the surface of the shiny black marble and just gazed at it blankly until she saw him come in. Standing she gave a little smile and ordered Carl to be outside.

"If you're expecting an apology again for the ungodly call..." Jonathan quirked even though he didn't need to bring this up, but she held up her hand.

"The only one I handle waking me up in the wee hours is you." She was no longer the girl he first met when he was still a professor. She shrugged off her blazer and draped it over her chair before walking around. As she knelt down before him since they were alone, he smelled her perfume, making his stomach twist excitedly. The effect from ten years ago when she became his student on his first day of teaching never failed. "So, what can we do to stop these bad dreams...?"

He never told her what he was dreaming about, forcing him to nibble on his lip nervously. "I wish I knew, for I was once in your position. I would recommend a dream suppressant."

Iris reeled back slightly. He forced himself to look down and found himself staring at the necklace he gave her for her fifteenth birthday. "If you don't dream, your brain shuts off altogether," she reminded him.

"That's what Ed said."

She laughed. "He should be your doctor instead of me, then."

Jonathan scoffed. "He's always in my business, unlike yourself. You back off when you know it."

Iris stood back up and moved back to sit on the edge of her desk, still eyeing him. He continued to look at her and how she no longer dressed scandalous as she had when she was a teenager. "Have I ever told you how you are beautiful?" he told her slyly, not purposefully changing the topic but only swaying her because he wanted to. She knew him well for that.

"You always say so, Professor."

He lowered his face, the smile tight as he flushed. His feelings for her had grown over the years, trying to keep them under control as this was not a fairytale where he could just take her away with him. Everyone would keep them apart because he was legally a madman and she his doctor and heir. He was always turned away, but Iris Mara DeLaine...she never turned him away.

"I know that look on your face. We've had this discussion before: you don't belong in here."

Jonathan leaned back against the cool, slick leather. "But I might as well be going to Blackgate for the rest of my life, child."

"Oh, calling me the pet name again." She used her lifting her left hand to stare at her oval-shaped black nails as means of show, but even that did not change anything.

"It's my _affectionate_ pet name for you," he returned coyly. "As you still call me professor."

The same hand turned away from her face so her palm was in his line of vision. "Jonathan, we're talking about your dream right now, which is a new step in this 'insanity' caused by your own fear toxin. It not only brought you in here, not only added to all of your difficulties shared between you and I, but something else...something that is from your past you never told me."

~o~

Dreams stemmed from deep within the subconscious of the human mind, not always coming up at random, born from the depths of a person's experiences and the memory of that experience, so Iris knew that there had to be something Jonathan never told her over the years. She hated to treat him like this, but she had to get to the bottom of this. He helped her, so she owed him. Not as his doctor, but as a friend.

Or was it really "friend" between them?

"Iris, speaking your mind won't always help. In my case...this particular dream which comes every now and then is more than an invasion of privacy."

She was tempted to run over and _kiss_ him, try to get him to talk like that, but she wasn't a wicked person. She respected everyone's business, including Jonathan's, but in his case, how could she help him if he couldn't talk to her? He taught her that a long time ago, but now times changed. He wasn't a doctor anymore, but he was still a master in the field as she was. No matter her age, she was on the same level as he. "Jonathan, remember you told me -"

He cut her off sharply. "I don't need to say so, Iris, and believe me when I want to, but the details are humiliating enough. I have suffered enough humiliation to last a lifetime." His arms folded across his chest, his chin lifted, but she wasn't moved.

"Jonathan, that doesn't work on me, and you know it. I know you better than anyone else; I don't want you in here in Arkham any longer..."

"We've gone on with this for the last couple years!" he said impatiently, unfolding his arms and throwing them into the air. "No one understands me enough to not keep me from Blackgate unlike yourself, and Eddie."

"And Joan," she added. Joan she trusted more because of her history with Edward Nygma. They were high school sweethearts before going off to separate colleges and reconnecting in circumstances at Arkham of all times. And Joan was even more hopeful, loving and still professional than any of the others. "Jonathan, I think we should talk more about your dream if you could give me a good reason to prescribe a suppressant..."

"Fine!" he snapped. "It's always the same: I wake up naked and tied to a chair, eyes blinded and myself gagged, and there is a man I never see who torments me because I 'left' him after everything he gave me, throwing it all away for what I am now. In the end, he..." His eyes closed, inhaling through his nose as his jaw tightened closed. Iris felt her blood run cold as she regretted pressuring him into this, but now she understood.

"What did he do?" She didn't want him to really tell her, but instinct overtook.

"Does the word 'defile' mean anything to you?"

Her stomach lurched; she gripped both sides of her desk to keep from falling in front of her, but her head bowed forward so Jonathan could not look into her eyes. Jonathan had been having dreams of being sexually violated by an unseen abductor...had he been in another life?

It made her rage internally that her beloved former professor was raped sometime before he became her teacher, now that she thought of it. He was ten years her senior; he'd been twenty-three when he became so, and she always wondered how he'd gotten his position sooner than the average PhD student. Iris gasped to herself as she raised her head to meet his eyes, but before she could question him, the door was knocked on. "Come in!" she shouted, and Carl poked his head in.

"Pardon me, Doctor, but Jonathan needs to go back to his cell."

"Okay." She looked at Jonathan and saw how his angelic face raced with conflicting swimming emotions. "I'm sorry," she whispered to him. "I won't fail you." She made the promise a long time ago and was still firm to it. She felt strongly for him and hated him being beneath her, treated as he was, so she would do everything in her power to get him out of Arkham Asylum. But it was the Batman's fault Jonathan lost everything after an entire life no different than her own was.

That was why she was helping him now, not abandoning him like his other doctors who came and went. If she could just find means to uncover a good reason to release him...

Iris found herself behind her desk again, staring at his closed file but not opening it. Medication did not cure one hundred percent; it could only do so much. Once she reached her goal, she would not let Jonathan move into a halfway house which was common for releases from jail or rehab. She wanted him to move into DeLaine Manor with her. Alice and Jervis were already living there, but you know what they said with "the more, the merrier". Her heart began to race as she began to fantasize Jonathan's release...before the thoughts about his nightmares returned.

 _Who_ raped _him?_

The door was knocked on. Her newest patient was here, none other than - "I'd ask how you are today, Eddie, but I think we know the answer," she said with a grin to the dark-haired, similarly bespectacled man who gave her a lopsided grin.

"Yes, we do," he answered simply.

There had to be a reason for simply answering her, and so short. "Was anything interrupted?" Iris asked curiously.

"You mean what Joan and I were doing in her office not long before you and me now?"

Now that was an image she didn't want to know. "Eddie, honestly, you and your high school first love...I did not need to have the images. Joan must wonder why she's doing it when she has conflicting emotions about right or wrong." It didn't surprise her that the high school sweethearts still had feelings for each other despite the fact Edward, like his best friend from college, was a legally labeled lunatic himself.

"I was the ladies' man long before she came along in sophomore year. You know, getting the ball rolling before I scored the winner," he added with a wink. "Joan was my rock for two more years to pass...before separation." His face fell then, and his eyes twinkled with a sadness that touched her heart. "Remember that story I told you..."

"That she wasn't like the other whores who only were interested in foreplay and not your riddles. You wanted someone who shared your interests and at the same time didn't have any with you, someone who wouldn't make you be something you don't want to be. You never forget your first." She nodded, drumming her fingers absently. "Jon was also your first best friend as you were his first." It wasn't proper to discuss patient confidentiality, but this wasn't just doctor-patient privacy; this was a discussion of help between _friends_. Life had all of the mysteries about the depths of the boundaries placed.

"Yeah, we met at the start of freshman year. We were roommates and had the same professor of psychology together, even pathology and chemistry. There was never a day we didn't see each other."

~o~

 _14 years ago…_

Edward took a look around his dorm room he arrived in, happy it was bigger than he thought, and happy there were two beds separate instead of one bunk; it was too frat boyish, if you asked him. All he wanted was a little semblance of a bachelor pad that didn't involve himself clearing after his drunk father ever since his mother left when he was nine, not that he would be slacking off all the time.

He knew he was getting a roommate, but the man hadn't arrived yet, so in the meantime, he wanted to make himself at home, namely his side of the room. Set it up with his prized video games and puzzles, all his books and everything. After that, he could probably make himself at home in the little kitchen there was or just order pizza, nevermind it was only day one, but something was always better than nothing.

That would also be one of the things he would miss doing with Joan, now that they were both moving on with their lives which was what everyone did after high school. Despite the fact they would keep in touch. She had gone to Harvard while he applied for Gotham State; everyone had a true calling, she said, but never forget each other. He wasn't sure if this was true love, since Joan was a realist, but she was his first love and would be his last since his heart would never let in another one. He would gladly wait forever for her again if he had to. She'd promised to come back to Gotham after her schooling was done. "Duty calls first, then love," he'd affirmed, which she'd nodded to and kissed him one last time before holding the necklace he gave her on their second date before his eyes, kissing it with him.

The door was knocked on, and he assumed his roommate had arrived. "Door's open!" he yelled before decided to have some fun as it opened. "Riddle me this, who's the new face coming into the nest?"

"The name is Jonathan, and I'm sharing this _nest_ ," the other young man said sarcastically as he carried his only suitcase in with him, "with you, whatever your name is."

Like Edward, the young man had dark hair combed down the middle and slightly wavy, glasses over the eyes but narrower than his own, pale-skinned, though he was dressed in a rust-colored plaid shirt and faded jeans unlike Edward's clean white shirt and dark denims. His face was steely, his eyes the brightest shade of blue ever seen and filled with negative emotions that seemed to freeze you on the spot. But Edward wasn't scared of him - he didn't think so. He couldn't figure out this guy, but he liked a challenge. "Ed. Edward Nygma. I like either one," he said excitedly, extending his hand out. "Pleasure to meet you, Jonathan - or do you like Jon?"

The blue-eyed man sniffed at his hand held out. "I prefer Jonathan, thank you very much, _Edward_. Or do you have a...riddle for me, like before?" he sneered, making Edward draw his hand back.

"Unless you have one to give me since I had a turn."

"Riddles are not my forte."

Somehow, he liked this one even though he shot down Edward's riddles, but nothing ever stopped him. The only one he had real fights with were his father whom he would never see again. "That's fine with me. I guess you won't be interested in talking to me, then." That was what he could already get out of his rude housemate; Jonathan was cold and formal. It was no wonder he must not have any friends. "Because all you care about is whatever your course for your life is," Edward stated as he sat down on the foot of his bed, watching Jonathan begin to unpack and seeing only clothes and books on psychology, telling him the obvious study course.

Jonathan's eyes flashed like sun through glaciers, flaring and maddening. "Why do you care about my nonexistent social life?" he spat. "We just met and already into this discussion which I never intended to begin. You don't have any either, do you?"

The question made Edward really angry, but he held himself together. "Now, look, that has nothing to do with -"

"Do with what? The fact I see video games and puzzle books, every topic everywhere so soon that it is enough that you are looked down upon? Precisely makes two of us, if you ask me. What are you here for, anyway, Mr. Nygma?" He towered over Edward, his lip curling.

"Forensics," he answered calmly. "Interested in the mysteries of a body after death, the usual. What about you?"

"Psychology, with the addition of phobias and psychopharmacology." Jonathan seemed to calm down now, now that he saw Edward wasn't as idiotic as he looked. They seemed to have more in common than they thought. He took a step back.

"Psychopharmacology...the study of the effect of drugs on the human mind," Edward mused as he looked up at the other bespectacled man with a slight smile. "See, we both like mysteries. But what about...phobias?" he asked curiously. He had the slightest idea that it had to do with the mentioned drugs on the human brain...

"I've always been fascinated with fear since I was a child," Jonathan answered, turning back to finish unpacking. "Simple as that."

Edward knew there was more than that, but he could tell Jonathan hated being pressed. But that was enough. All he knew right now was that he had someone to finally talk to despite the cold shell Jonathan Crane gave.

What if, on the inside, he was as warm and inviting Edward liked to believe?

~o~

 _Today_

Every night, Iris returned home by six, feeling better than she had in a long time. She guided her shiny black SUV with its powered-up engine and strong tires with silver wheels through the driveway and into the garage separate from the manor and its flawless perfection. The garage was built on its own and hidden within a forest only some yards from the home - its condition was as perfect as any suburban home unlike any other garage in general. Iris was a perfectionist if not overt as Maria had been. She also loved taking walks back to the manor, choosing to remove her heels to savor the cool, moist feel of the grass beneath her bare feet as she beheld the sight of her home.

DeLaine Manor was a twentieth-century mansion with gardens influenced by France but not compared to Marie Antoinette's Versailles, which was sometimes used to describe the garden - which was located behind the manor, much to the disappointment of guests, but once they beheld the sight of the hidden back, it was all worth it. There lived a terrace north of the manor from which steps descended to a pool. Across the water there was a _parterre_ and a colonnade leading on to a sunken garden with rococo stairways to another, more isolated garden, which honored Artemis herself, the goddess of the moon and hunt whom Jonathan even compared her to.

She opened the door and yelled out that she was home, and could smell Alice's cooking from somewhere off to her right. The chandelier above the foyer was reminiscent of the grand chandeliers which decorated the finest chateaux and palaces across Europe for class and elegance, lit up warmly and sparkled a special atmosphere throughout the interior, standing out amid the Middle Eastern themes. Iris headed in the direction she followed the scent until she entered the kitchen. The air was slightly smoky so that the ivory ceiling of timeless Gothic carvings was turning faint silver, and the rustic wood cupboard doors and the drawers and every wooden kitchen detail was on the verge of being fogged over so that they were barely seen again. Alice was on the verge of accidentally burning the house down.

"Hey, are you trying to burn the house down?!" Iris shrieked while trying to keep her laughter in check as she dashed over to help her sister carry the steaming pan over to the sink. While the blonde turned on the water to cool off the burning foil, Iris turned off the oven and rushed to open every window to let out the smoke as the fire alarm blared for a bit before silencing. It was safe to now breathe a sigh of relief.

"I'm still trying to get the hang of this." Alice wiped her hands on her floral-printed apron and shook her head in disdain, her blonde curls wisping about her face. "My first time making lasagna on my own. I'm sorry, Iris, after spending years of takeout and someone else cooking for me."

Iris laughed again and slipped off her blazer as it was getting warm in the room. She slung it over her arm. "You were close to burning the house down for the third time, and this time involves lasagna of all things."

"If only you had the chef come in tonight to spare me!" her blonde half-sister argued, even though she was laughing. "But I swear I'm getting better."

"And I see you are," Iris promised as she smelled the red tomato sauce and meat love despite the blackening parts of the cheese and surface. "Jervis would love this when he comes home."

"He's working late again." Alice watched as the black-haired woman hung her blazer on the coat rack festooned specially in the kitchen. "So, how was Jonathan today? Those...bad dreams of his?" she asked cautiously.

"I've come to the...conclusion he never told me one important factor that led to how he got his PhD at the age he did, but I can't give anything explicit away for his sake," Iris answered honestly as she walked over to one of the cupboards to get the plates out. "And I have to find out the facts, who the man in his dream was. This might be the key to helping him move on from the past as I have."

Alice looked piqued with wide-eyed innocent interest; shocked, too, but saying nothing as she was not a psychiatrist. "And what will happen if he is legally documented to be released from Arkham?"

Iris gave her the biggest of smiles she could ever manage, no matter any doubts. "Then he comes home with me."

~o~

 _14 years ago..._

Jonathan was not sure why this apparent game-crazy man was sharing his dorm with him, nor was he sure WHY he was even talking to him. Was he speaking to him for the sake of it, or setting him up for trouble later as soon as his guard lowered? If that was the case, he wished they never spoke at all. He hadn't had anyone to talk to for a long time, and he didn't need anyone now.

But Edward Nygma _was_ talking to him. Talking about his upcoming courses as well as his own interest in forensics, and Jonathan Crane found himself interested. As it seemed, Nygma's love of questions and mystery was its own beg of a case study. He seemed as isolated as Jonathan himself was, loving what he was doing...and somehow abused for it. By whom? His father? Mother? Or grandmother, as Jonathan had been?

"Well, Jonathan, since we've started warming up, is it too early for a pizza to celebrate the fact we are sharing a room together? I can turn on one of my video games..."

"I don't do video games," Jonathan snapped, "and I don't eat pizza."

Nygma gaped then; he saw this from the corner of his eye. "What do you eat then?"

"Anything but takeout." It was a lie; he only refused so the other man would get off his back. In fact, his body was skinny enough that he would never keep himself in shape anyway. And Edward saw this.

"You're not a good liar, Jon."

He whirled around and was about to tell him he didn't want to be called by that short name when Nygma held up both hands, smiling ear to ear. "Hey, hey, don't talk back. I just want to get better acquainted, roommate."

They might be roommates, but Jonathan never wanted to be friends with him...or didn't he? He could not remember having a real friend, and a part of his mind was pricking this was a once in a lifetime for him. Edward was willing to engage in conversation, order a pizza for them, so why not? Jonathan sighed in exasperation. "Alright, fine then."

Edward grinned. "I think we're going to enjoy being rommates, Jon."

 **Edward and Jonathan being roommates in college made sense enough for their budding odd friendship and strong bond for later on in life. Jonathan prefers isolation more, but Edward is more than willing to get him out of his comfort zone.**

 **In "Descent into Darkness", Alice had a challenge of cooking herself I HAD to bring it into here. :D And the little banter between her and Iris was hilarious and memorable.**

 **DeLaine Manor is also based off of this real life manor called Nemours Mansion and Gardens. As described, it was inspired by France and Marie Antoinette, with influences from Greece and Rome in word-for-word detail in my research, so if anyone wants to also look that up, you won't be disappointed with the imagery. :D**


	5. Scars

**I realize it might be annoying with me telling everyone they should check out my research bits on certain details. If it is any consolation, I'll leave it obvious at that. :) Anyhoo, here is the next chapter, and reviews are always appreciated as ever.**

 **The Empress herself in Vytina's profile was very vigilante, loathes all of Gotham for their self-absorbtion, and her fear toxin was was albeit different from Scarecrow's. I quote, her "** **toxin is only effective if the infected individual looks upon their reflection, where they will find their self-image tragically altered"; it comes either gas form or liquid form, however she wants it. Professor Crane is proud of her. ;) But instead of claws in the gloves like the profile, she has what Scarecrow did in the Arkham Asylum game that also gave him a Freddy Krueger kind of look.**

Chapter Four

Scars

As administrator, everything was her responsibility if no one figured that out already. And that included handling the prescriptions of her patients. Jonathan had gone through doctor after doctor because he was a damned good player with them, and because of that, he was all hers.

For that, she was more than pleased for merely personal reasons rather than professional. Jonathan needed someone he looked up to, as she strongly believed all her patients did. There would always be a mole somewhere in the ranks of therapists and orderlies, some of them doing their best to hide their dirty works and others easy to find with the right sources. Few knew this, but Iris DeLaine had more influence than anyone thought. She carried her power over the asylum like she did at night when the time came for the Empress' activities.

Her costume was still the same one as she first donned to finish off her mother, but she'd added more stronger touches to it, including weaponry. Her mask was an elegant half mask of black velvet with sophisticated golden trimmings - to add a flare of royalty to her name - and added to both forearms above the gloves were golden arm bands of intertwining Greek snakes, coiling into spirals, the ends terminating into coiling naturalistically modeled snakes, the scales well detailed, and the bodies forming a knot at the center around an oval garnet.

Around her waist was a utility belt of sturdy copper equipped with various daggers - on special occasions she would use a scythe, just as she used it on Maria. Strapped to her right arm over the glove was a machinery equipped with syringe "claws" filled with her liquidized toxin - when in contact with the skin, the tips of her fingers would press against the bottoms of each syringe to inject the serum into the victim. The effects were different compared to her former mentor's, though, having affecting the individual as soon as they saw their reflection in a little mirror she brought with her that she often clipped to her belt...their worst fears were reflected back in their faces, very much a warped version of the Looking Glass. She had other gadgets, though, with the help of Jervis.

Their screams were magic to her ears that she felt like a hero protecting the innocent. She was on occasion, but other times were few as personal revenge.

Right now, she had a score to settle with someone who dared to question her about Jonathan. One of her nurses, one of the stupid ones who was a common wench and acted like she was better than anyone else, any of the doctors including Joan Leland - and Dr. DeLaine herself - and was one of those who thought Iris was too young to be the head of them all, which wasn't a surprise, but that wasn't the last straw. She needed to teach Laura Harding a lesson once and for all for this, find out what her fears were and turn them onto her in her own reflection.

Twenty-six years old and a graduate of Standford, Laura Harding was black-haired like Iris, with catty green eyes and a narrow nose above thin lips; she didn't look like she'd be anything different from Iris DeLaine, but upon learning what kind of person she was, she was a major bitch. Reminded Iris of one of those girls from college. Iris had her home address as it was her job as administrator to know such things in case of emergency...and this time was not even close to life-threatening, but she would be dealt with in the event of time.

She had made the decision to tell Jonathan tomorrow or in two days' time, she hadn't decided yet, but she had made the choice not to give him a dream suppressant as much as it pained her to put him through more of the nightly torment. Dreams were means to keep the brain from being overloaded with information, and not only would Jonathan die in time from zero tolerance, then he would only hallucinate what he saw in his brain that his poison exposed him to, which would only lead to eventually suicide in extreme cases. She couldn't let that happen to him.

She always took her Empress garb with her, changing clothes and putting on the corset, pants and boots as well as her long black coat over it, changing in the alleyway and finally sneaking up the back balcony to Nurse Laura's apartment in the Narrows. She was a ninja, following the shadows like they were her allies and hiding behind the couch near the window she came in, and the owner herself was busy with a hand done dinner Iris could not make out from where she was; she had to make sure she was not seen and strike so they could begin. But they would not do it here, where her screams would positively attract neighbors and a call to the police.

~o~

 _14 years ago..._

"Dr. Victor Warner...it appears we have his class together," Jonathan said as he read his schedule beside Edward's, which the other man noted as they sat side by side. He nodded.

"Psychology. Your favorite."

"Why are you even thinking about psychology?" Jonathan asked with a raised eyebrow. "You're going into the study of the body after death, and I quote, 'the mysteries of the motives'."

Edward grinned. "Matches nearly with psychology, if you ask me, Jon." Indeed it did, because whoever a killer would be, any clue they left would point to key points in their motives and the excitement of the kill. Edward fantasized numerous times doing that to his father as a boy. "Psychology is always present in every case. But Joan would say not always, and I sometimes think she's wrong."

Jon looked up at him, both eyebrows raised now. "Joan?" he repeated.

It was only their second day together, and tomorrow they would start their classes, beginning with Dr. Warner's psych course; they also had chemistry and pathology. Jonathan apparently had an interest in the use of chemicals, but what else could you need if you wanted to learn psychopharmacology? Beside the point, Edward felt his heart shrink a little at the mention and memory of his one true love now distances from him. "My girlfriend. We are high school sweethearts," he answered.

"Ah," Jon said, nodding, but he didn't look the least bit interested. "I take it she's not going here to Gotham State University." He was a hell of a genius, and Edward liked him for it, but judging from his tone of voice, he was clinical which infuriated him. He must have never had a woman in his life unlike himself.

"Correct you are. She's gone off to Harvard, but we are staying in touch. She's going into psychology, like you. She even promised to come back to Gotham once she was finished."

Jon scoffed and turned away from him. "And then what? You get married, assuming that you are never going to find another? That sounds unlikely."

He sat back by one, glaring at him. Just because he -! "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked angrily.

"It means that hardly anyone keeps their lovers from high school, hardly hold onto them, even the ones in college. Love is nothing but a fiction; I know that because I never once had a taste of it in my life, not from my own mother or even my grandmother." He stopped himself right there and looked ahead, refusing to look at Edward, hating himself for letting it slip. But Edward knew he struck gold.

That explained everything he suspected: Jonathan had been through a lot himself, only it involved his mother and grandmother, but it made him wonder what happened. "Well, now I understand why," he said, treading carefully, "but since you're the expert, you're going to say that I'm prying into your personal space."

Jon looked at him then, eyes flashing but his face expressionless. "Thanks for putting it that way." He stood up then and walked over to the makeshift desk beside his bed that had been there since before arrival; he put his schedule in the cover of the textbook on top, not looking at him. "But since you're already in, you really want to know?" he seethed, whirling around and glaring. He was so defensive, but Edward had seen this in his father during his drunken states that nothing scared him anymore. He nodded. "Fine, then I'll show you this."

Before Edward realized what was happening, Jonathan was pulling the back of his shirt over his head...and revealing a span of a network of pale gray scars that looked like they came from a whip. Some were raised, some not, but either way, it was unhealthy and going deeper below his jeans.

Edward felt like he was going to pass out.

Perhaps he had gone too far after all.

"You thought you'd seen enough in two days' time?" Jon mocked as if reading his mind. He let the shirt fall back over his bodily mystery to all but him now. "Have you ever endured this before?"

Now that he knew it came from a whip or maybe fingernails, according to the smaller ones? Edward swallowed. "My father, yeah," he said, unafraid. The more you let a secret live, the harder it was to kill, but the wrong person would always say the wrong thing - but not between the two of them. "He was horrible, a drunk. Ever since Mom left when I was nine, to be honest. I like to think that he didn't take it well, simple as that."

Jonathan gave a wry smile. "Simple as that, eh? You really believe it might not be deeper than that? If you never knew why, has it crossed your mind your father might have loved her so much she couldn't take it anymore because she had been forced to give up her life's career for the sake of the house and her child, got tired and ran off to renew herself?"

Edward felt like his whole world was spinning. All those times his father yelled at him to not speak of his mother who had sometimes claimed to be too tired, not going to any of his school contests towards the final year of marriage, how she seemed to ignore him as much as she could...how had Jonathan known so well? His IQ, for all he knew, must be that much higher than Edward thought. He could really use a personal psych teacher instead of the one they got now. "How did you...know all of this?" he asked quietly, tempted to crawl into the bedcovers like a child and hide, and maybe die. Jon's laugh was without humor.

"Because I knew that when my own mother left me when I was the same age as you were when yours left."

Well, he sort of got the fact he was physically abused, but if his mother left him, then... "What happened?"

"I was born before she was even a legal adult, and it was with a man who seduced her 'young heart'," Jonathan spat as he sat down in the chair in front of his desk, "before tossing her aside and never deigning to see or even speak to her again. From what I gathered, she tried to contact him and get him to take me as she didn't want anything to do with me, but no such luck. Given it was deep Georgia where religion and foul earth mixed well, no one else wanted me either, so she was forced to keep me until I was barely ten years old and taking off just like that. She left me with her mother who was a religious nut and always beat me to hell, calling me disgusting and sinful, taking away my innocence...and now you see where my fascination with fear stems from." A smile, wicked and emotionless, graced his face that Edward's heart burned and beat faster. "She instilled fear in me that she told me it was what I deserved. I suppose you could say it was all I ever knew that over time it became part of who I am now."

So it did. His own father wasn't the best in the world, so he had to say Jonathan's was worse than what he went through, and no father in his life, but he matched Edward in the runaway mom department. As for the grandmother...he wished there was something he could do to help him, if that old woman was still alive where he was from. "Where's your grandmother now?"

"Dead," Jon answered simply. "Died of a heart attack not long before I graduated high school."

"What we both went through wasn't so different after all," he said softly; even though they were still strangers and shared a room for only a couple days, Edward felt like he'd known him since forever. Not like romantic partners, but as friends. _Real_ friends. This could only be the beginning.

~o~

 _Today_

"So, tell me, how does it feel to be the center of attention, Miss Harding?"

"Please," the woman whimpered, tears rolling down her cheeks despite being blinded. Her hands were tied to the arms of the chair in the same basement that Maria DeLaine had been tortured and executed years ago. Her tormentor did not intend to kill her herself, but to let her do it to herself until she had no more breath in her body. No one, not even her sister and future brother-in-law, would ever hear the screams of this one, not even the maids who came in once a week, and no one ever came down here but the mistress of the house herself.

"Please what?" Iris cooed, leaning over her, eyes twinkling behind her half mask, black-painted lips curling into a cruel leer.

"Please, let me go!"

She laughed, harsh and echoing off the walls. "Please? Is that all? You're not asking me why I brought you here, you worthless excuse of a medicine giver? Do tell me why a seemingly bright young woman like yourself came to gloomy Gotham of all places, coming to Arkham Asylum to live your life, even challenging the authority of the head doctor you see as a child accepting a great legacy on her shoulders left to her by her former employer whom she was so close with, and is now his doctor after the discovery of his 'crimes'. Laura Harding, a straight A graduate with her degree in medicine, still single at twenty-six and living in the lowdown Narrows of Gotham City, the town of the crazies - not that there aren't any already," Iris said with an honest breath of a laugh, shaking her head, raising her right hand which had her glove and closed it into a half fist, raising a syringe-finger in a point upwards. "You don't live any better than you want to, Laura dear, but you want so much that you try to fight for it, even handle anyone who tries to stop you along the way, do you? I saw from afar what kind of woman you were, always back talking your bosses and colleagues, claiming to handle anything on your own to avoid being submissive like you were as a child? Eager to please everyone then until you couldn't take anymore, tired of disappointing others? Low self-esteem? Afraid to fail at life if you didn't try hard enough? Believe me, that was how I felt when I was that age, so I suppose I can relate. Am I correct you wanted to be the tough girl in your life now?" She huffed and put both hands on her hips.

"Well, then, we should find out now, shall we?"

The needles of the syringes glimmered faintly in the light that the poor girl did not see it coming until she felt all five of them pierce her bare left arm - her sweater cardigan had been removed some time ago - and her screams were a rush of pleasure in the Empress' system.

"I guess it is time to take this off now," she suggested as she reached for the blindfold, at the same time slipping behind her and producing the small silver mirror between gloved fingers and holding it in front of Laura's tear-streaked face, allowing her to see her greatest fears in the image of facial distortion and imperfections - ultimately becoming the fear atelophobia itself.

Observing all of the symptoms brought back the memories of that one night she received the wounds on her body that Maria never gave her during college: the accelerated heart rate, the helpless screams and uncontrollable shaking as her body and sanity were ravage by both hand and verbal taunts...

~o~

 _8 years ago..._

Everything in her entire body hurt, from her chest to her limbs, abdomen, and below her waist. Her mind was spinning but her vision remained ever crystal clear. She stumbled across the soft, moist grass of the campus until she reached the building entrance. Office hours were on but almost over at this hour, but she was happy despite her state, and she was desperate to reach the office of one man and one man only.

She could still hear their cruel laughter as she ran for her life after the hours that she was supposed to meet with her roommate, returning a book to the library from literature when she accidentally came across them: the gang of drunk Mina Rosenberg, her boyfriend and their posse returning from the boisterous actions in the frat house, spotting the girl who would be fifteen in a couple more weeks, the one Mina hated most of all because she thought she was smarter at her young age…and decided to have some fun with her that they could never get enough of, whistling at her and hollering at her that she shouldn't waste her time with "stupid books".

Fun that she did not enjoy at all.

Keeping a good hold on her ripped open turtleneck and making her way through the empty halls until she came to _his_ door despite the pain, she staggered over to the door and knocked hard three times before slouching against the wall and to the ground, drawing her legs to her chest to hide herself. She'd felt pain before, but this was beyond what she endured as a child; in her mind, at least.

The door opened, and she jerked up to see him stepping out to see who had bothered him from whatever he was doing, then he looked down and saw her. His face was emotionless, but his eyes said it all. He took in her bare legs bruised colorfully as you'd expect, her black turtleneck ripped apart and held together by her own hand. He knelt down and helped her up and into his office. It hurt to move, but she had come all this way.

"I'm going to have to take you home with me."

His bold declaration shocked her; was it appropriate? She wanted to say it wasn't, but right now she wasn't thinking straight and just wanted to get away from here, not involve the authorities. The "prim and proper" Mina and her gang had left her beaten and abused as petty revenge that Iris nodded without a word. Crane nodded, too, and shrugged off his jacket and draped around her, leading her down the hall until they reached the doorway that led to the parking lot where his car was. "Do you have...anyone else living with you?" she asked softly as soon as she was in the front passenger seat, pulling his jacket closer to her and looking up shyly. He gave a small smile to one corner of his mouth.

"Edward is probably occupying himself for the night. He won't say a word."

She wanted to ask what form of "occupying" he meant before deciding it involved a woman - or was it video games? The latter question came as soon as they came to the campus apartments. His housemate, Edward Nygma, was a coroner at GCPD, and it turned out he loved games in all forms. It made her want to laugh. He wasn't home, as Crane promised, which left them all alone.

Iris was grateful for the room temperature her teacher preferred to keep it for her chilling and tingling nerves to calm down if only a little bit. Professor Crane closed the door to his bedroom, still watching her the way he was. It wasn't predatory, merely concern and a tenderness that he showed no one other than for her. She felt herself shrink under it in spite of herself, standing there half naked and bruised from those monsters. Hands began to tear away the torn black shirt - she jerked, instantly frightened at the contact, but a hand brought her chin up to meet crystalline blue orbs. "Don't be afraid, Iris," he said soothingly. The promise was real; she allowed him to peel away the fabric and leave her more exposed than before, showing more bruises and the dark parallel scars over her breasts from her mother when she was eight. Crane took those in, his eyes narrowing….knowing. She remembered the first time he noticed when she'd worn a V-neck blouse one time the past year, and he'd known with his eyes that she saw no use in hiding anymore. But there was also a glow of appraisal as he beheld the sight of the lovely curve of her proud little breasts obscured by the iris-colored lace bra, a good form for her slim body, and lower to where her bottom and hipbones were hidden by boyfriend shorts of the same lace. Again, this was none predatory, just silent appeal when all she'd received in her life was brutal verbal and physical torment. This man beheld the sight of her as if she were a goddess incarnate even if he didn't use spoken words.

"Take them off," he commanded quietly.

She lost the undergarments within seconds, wanting this over and done with. Crane tended to the bruises and cuts with care and being steady in not touching any part of her body without scaring her, and she appreciated it. She'd had enough for one night as it was. Throughout the whole time, she could hear the soft volume of the song by her favorite group - Crane loved Eden's Bridge, too! - and instantly connected herself and him to it.

 _The Lord is my light and my salvation._

 _The Lord is the stronghold of my life._

 _Whom shall I fear? Whom shall I fear?_

By the time he was finished, she redressed, this time with one of his white shirts, and now sat on his couch before the fireplace he'd lit for them. She watched him with fascination, thinking how good he was at that. She noted that the fireplace itself was rather eye-catching with its simple but classy veneers and glass doors. She had known many different types of men all her life, but this one interested her. "You're good at building a fire."

"I had to fend for myself, even tend to myself all my life," he answered, sitting next to her, gazing at the amber glow before them both. "When I was a child, we had almost nothing new. I never had new clothes or anything other than what was provided for me. My mother left me before I became a teenager, left me with her mother, a religious fanatic. Life for me was unbearable."

 _When men advance against me_

 _And all my foes surround me,_

 _They will stumble and fall, stumble and fall._

 _Though all the world besiege me,_

 _And war break out against me_

 _I am sure in the Lord, sure in the Lord._

The revelation shocked her to her core. "I had no idea you were abused…like me…" Iris whispered in horror. He silenced her with a hand on her bared knee.

"I don't need your sympathy, Iris," he said frostily. "I never needed anyone's. There was one time I truly had a companion who actually understood me...Edward. He protected me even though there were times I didn't need it - especially when it came to _him_."

Iris assumed his grandmother was dead, and his mother whom he had never seen again was still out there somewhere, so that left her with… "Your professor? This…Dr. Warner?"

Crane stiffened. "Never say his name again," he said in a lifeless voice. "And yes. My friend, and housemate, tried to protect me from him, but it ended in vain. You do not want to know the details - not even a brilliant young mind like yours can even comprehend what I endured at _his_ hands."

He looked down at her to see the uneasiness on her face. He smiled warmly and brushed his palm against her chin and came to rest on her cheek. She melted into the warmth of his hand, the assurance that she was safe with him. Tears burned the rims of her eyes, and she flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. He stiffened under her embrace as if he had never had someone hug him before - it broke her heart to think that, as her own mother never gave her this sort of treatment - but nevertheless returned it.

 _And in the day of trouble_

 _I'm safe within His dwelling._

 _He will hide me, He will hide me._

 _My head will be exalted,_

 _So far above my enemies;_

 _I will sing to the Lord, sing to the Lord._

"I'm sorry, Iris," he whispered into her hair. "I'm sorry that you, my best and brightest student, had to endure this pain far more intolerable than what I was given by the bullies of my youth. But I swear to you…" His voice became deeper, more powerful, bordering on vengeful. "I will make them pay. I'll do all of this for you even if it costs me everything I have. I will not rest until they pay for their crimes."

 _There is one thing that I ask of the Lord_

 _For the days of my life;_

 _That I may dwell in the house of the Lord_

 _All the days of my life._

 _To gaze on His beauty, seek Him in His temple._

 **"Insanity is Love, Madness is Reason" is a hell of a read and so powerful, when Iris came to her beloved professor injured and abused as she did in here, and he took just great care of her, but unlike in here, they went as far to make love in his office. This time the decision was made to move to his apartment instead, which he shared with Eddie long before incarceration. The song "While Your Lips Are Still Red" by Nightwish was in that story over the course; it's one of my favorite songs, too, hauntingly beautiful. During "Descent into Darkness" and its oneshots, Jonathan was known to call her his Mistress of Fear and goddess incarnate. Little details like that just matter the most. :')**

 **The scars on Iris' breasts I had to keep because they were a definition of who she was, no matter if they are hideous, and Jonathan isn't affected because he still has his own scars that remind how he survived - and how Iris survived her mother. Their survivals are what brought them together.**

 **I can't help but feel an itch of familiarity of Jonathan touching Iris' cheek and the "assurance" she was safe with him was from someplace else I read, and it's been awhile. But I suppose anyone can use that phrase. Anyways, her throwing herself at him and him in return holding her in his arms made me cry. :') He does not remember anyone - a woman in particular - hugging him that way.**

 **The latest Eden's Bridge song is "The Lord is my Light".**


	6. Dirty Desks and Dirty Secrets

**I haven't gotten ANY reviews for this story. I really am okay with guest ones if not other authors, so please, don't be shy. Just no flaming; it breaks my heart.**

 **The cover image has a blue rose with water droplets amid a gray background - the symbolism of it as well as the rose itself were perfect the moment I laid my eyes on it, setting the foundation for the whole story.**

 **As I'm sure a lot of you know, blue roses do not grow naturally as other colors; they represent mystery, love, enchantment, new opportunities and possibilities, and excitement, all of which worked itself into the summary of the entire story. :)** **The blue rose has a certain charm and unique mystery that does not reveal itself freely, as quoted on one particular online article called "The Meanings of Blue Roses".**

Chapter Five

Dirty Desks and Dirty Secrets

He was always happy to see her, any time during their sessions which were always the best days of Edward's life in this bright yet dreary place. He would always plop down in that chair in front of her as she looked up from the last patient's file - sometimes his own, sometimes another - and give a small smile as she did to all her patients. Joan Leland was compassionate the same way Iris DeLaine was, but she was the one to never make an exception with allowing her patients to have their way in sessions - except himself, her boyfriend from teenage years that reconnected after college and she returned from Harvard.

"Did you wear that color just for me?" he asked her upon seeing the partially opened green blouse, his favorite color, which she rarely placed on except for special occasion...or whenever she wanted to have today be about them and less talking, which made him burn inside for her. Their relationship had reached this peak on a higher level ever since the Batman brought him in here not long after Jonathan and the Joker, and the others to follow. But the medical examiner fired him for "tampering with a corpse" without his permission. All because he found something helpful and interesting! Had Edward been stable in his thinking now that he thought of it sometimes, he would have done something to get the son of a bitch fired and his job back. But his hate clouded his judgment at the time. Even Joan had done the best she could with him until he took matters into his own hands, kidnapped his former boss and would have finished him off if Batman hadn't come along.

The Batman was still wanted after the death of Harvey Dent, so why was he still out there doing his job? Edward would bet money he would one day be caught and answered for; how he'd love to see that day come.

"Maybe it's because you and I need to get serious today, put the games aside for now, Edward," she answered calmly, coolly and professional. "We've had you here for barely a year, and you insist on playing riddles and quizzes with me that they keep you behind bars."

"And the fact that I am busy on top of the desk or in the broom closet with my psychiatrist?"

She drew back and held herself rigid. "That's not appropriate, Mr. Nygma."

He laughed at her shell he enjoyed playing with until it cracked down, and the fun was shared. "On formal basis again, Joan, really. You insist on being hard on me, letting me do all the work."

Joan sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between her eyes. "Eddie..." Bingo, _now_ he got her to say the nickname only she had been allowed to call him. "...you want to start back at square one with your childhood again? Be my guest. But we really need to get serious with getting you out of Arkham -"

Just like he knew Iris herself was still doing with Jon. "Like the little head doctor herself is doing with my best friend at this very moment? It would be nice if both of us were out on the same day, don't you think?" Edward asked with a smirk, slowly standing and walking over in front of her desk, which was not much different from Iris' though soft rosewood which you did not find anywhere else. "I'm sure you could find an excuse to give as Iris will - without spilling the beans about what we are up to behind the closed doors of this office and the broom closet..."

She growled and jerked forward from her seat, smashing her mouth against his. The doors were locked, and no one was coming in for another hour. He had gotten her riled up yet again; games were so fun. They never did this or any other physical activity related in high school since it was she who set the grounds to avoid unplanned pregnancy, but after reconnecting upon her return, the barriers fell altogether as they were adults now. Lips parting, their tongues heatedly knotted together around each other and intertwined like the never-ending knots of the United Kingdom. Her hands grasped the front of his orange suit and pulled him closer so they nearly fell on top of her desk; she was the first to come to, panting wildly and coming around to be in front of him, shoving the paperwork aside and her khaki-colored jacket off.

"You're such a pain, you know?" she hissed. "You're still the same smartass from high school, and you're never going to change, are you?"

Edward grinned and chuckled. "Some things never change, Joan dear. You know me better than anyone." He had been in the middle of unbuttoning her green blouse and finally revealed the necklace she always wore. It was her favorite color of purple, matching the legendary eyes of the Hollywood beauty herself who was known for all her crowned jewels, set in rose-gold and surrounded with blinding diamonds. From their second date as the ring on the third finger of her right hand was from after they resumed their relationship, that exquisite heart-shaped amethyst on a yellow-gold band. "Remember you said duty came first, then love?"

She scoffed at his turn of her words onto her. "You're not turning this on me, Edward Nygma. Job always comes first, but here I am mixing it with my personal life." He looked back up and raised an eyebrow at her; she was talking as if it was a bad thing. He himself always put both her and his old career on his plate, but it was always her who put hers above him. That was one of their struggles with making their love work - and now it was within the walls of her own workplace, the dreaded Arkham Asylum.

"Can we not let that ruin right now?" he asked, almost whining to his own ears. By now he'd had her bust exposed to him, covered with a sexy leopard print with little pops of lime green. "Why, you surprise me with being a naughty girl under the guise of a cool girl!"

"Edward!" She struck him across the face, but not hard enough. Still, it made his erection harder than before that he hastily worked on his belt, button and zipper, freeing himself before her eyes. Her laugh was brief and a little offensive; it was always wrong to laugh at a man's pride. He grunted and shoved her onto the desk, helping her push up her khaki skirt to feel her smooth brown legs, then hiked higher to find her matching underwear, pulling it down. He was about to ask if she wanted to use the refreshing spearmint balm she kept in her drawer this time, but his erection against her made him forget altogether - and she did, too.

"OH, Edward!" she yelped when he thrust into her; anyone outside the office could hear the noise from down the hall that she forced herself to keep quiet. Edward chuckled and continued to thrust into her. She shoved his pants from his hips so they slid to his ankles, maybe to his knees; he was too focused on the tight heat that was his Joan to even care about anything anymore.

"Still want that spearmint balm?" he grunted while they were halfway through, his senses nearly an overload of hot power when his memory came to, and he looked down at her to see her skin was shining with sweat as much as he was. She was gasping and panting, as overwhelmed as he was, to answer before she finally did.

"I don't...think so."

~o~

Jonathan was surprised at the surprise visit from Iris when their next appointment wasn't until next week, but then it shouldn't be. Here he was at rec time during the day when Eddie had gone away less than twenty minutes ago for his appointment with Dr. Leland.

It was more than just talking about his life and future going on in there. There were no secrets between him and Jonathan about this. He and Joan knew each other since high school, counting the five-year gap between them. Joan did not deny she missed them together physically before his arrest, but she was also struggling with loving Edward and having him as her patient at the same time. He had the gall one time to compare them to Jonathan and Iris.

"Iris and I aren't even together that way!" he'd exclaimed, offended. "She's brighter than me taking her over the desk that used to be mine!"

Edward had laughed then before getting serious. Somber. "You haven't even told her about your dreams, have you?"

He stiffened and leaned back against the wall where his bed was. The dreams were his privacy and his alone. Edward was the only one to know about them; if he told Iris, as much as he trusted her, she would ask him to elaborate. He had wanted to tell her, however, but if she knew the whole truth behind his nightmares, she might not...

Ever since college, he had not mustered it up to find a woman; even when Iris became a woman herself and came to work for him at Arkham, he'd been worried he would ruin it all. Now he was fearful she wouldn't want to be with him in that way, find him disgusting as his grandmother called him all those years ago.

The longer he kept his dirtiest secret in, the more it ate him away.

All he wanted was to take a suppressant to keep himself from having these dreams, but his psychologist's instincts reminded him he would die if he didn't dream, like he and Iris talked about. Eddie might always be in his business, but he was right about no dreaming and death. He didn't want to do this to him and Iris, and himself. So, he told Iris about his nightmare...but he could not tell her WHO was involved.

There she was in a _tight as hell_ silk black dress that hugged almost every curve on her body and stopped at the knees, with a long teal blue cardigan flawlessly and effortlessly slung over her frame. Black heeled boots heightened her average five-foot-six to five-foot-ten and seductively graced her feet. Her long hair fell in waves that resembled the work of a curling iron, one side swept off to show one ear studded with her favorite pearl-and-black-diamond earrings. He felt his breath hitch as he looked her up and down, which Pamela Isley and Harleen Quinzelle noticed themselves from the couch across from him and giggled to each other, and if Iris noticed, she did not give anyone the sign she did.

She sat down beside him. "I've decided not to give you the meds you want to keep you from dreaming," she whispered softly. "I had to tell you now instead of next week, so I did not leave you wondering about it."

Jonathan nodded. "I appreciate it...but that means the nightmares will still come." The one thing left between himself and the road to leaving this place for good.

He'd seen how she reacted when he told her what happened to him before he awoke in the end. Horror - pure, unadulterated horror and disgust. He tried to tell himself disgust at the man responsible, but it was easier said than done...if only he could find the right time to tell her the truth...

~o~

 _14 years ago..._

When Jonathan first met Dr. Victor Warner, he thought the man was very revered, like a god, when the older man who looked like he was in his mid fifties spoke of the subject of psychology with a passion no different than his own. Warner had been dedicated since a very young age, and he was the most celebrated professor of psychology to date.

Which was why Jonathan wanted more than ever to be mentored by this man, if only there was a way to talk to him without becoming overwhelmed.

But when had Jonathan ever been overwhelmed by a teacher? His grandmother and the others at school made him feel that way; the past was behind him. At least, that was why he was here: to put it behind him. He just arrived here with Edward in tow just as he was the first one here. And when they walked through the opened doors, a voice proudly called to them.

"Gentlemen, welcome."

"Dr. Warner, I presume," Edward answered with a smile that seemed forced, however. From the corner of his eye, Jonathan saw that his eye was critical. He was a good judge of character, he would give his roommate that. The last few days spent with him had been very interesting, getting to know him and sharing his dark past with him. Edward had a mother who left him, not that different from his own and at the same age Jonathan had been. But while Jonathan never knew his own father, Edward's father had drank and abused his son as his grandmother had done to him.

But while they were in school, perhaps this man would help them both understand why their families did what they did. Jonathan Crane would not become a psychiatrist himself for nothing; his purpose would be to understand.

"That I am. I've been told about you two and your high school records of achievement," the man answered with a warm smile. "Especially you, Mr. Crane. Fascination with phobias and the use of drugs on the mind...psychopharmacology. Very impressive. Have you ever experimented?"

He could not let him know he'd done a toxin that could render the individual helpless in their terrors, which his grandmother had a taste of, because no one would understand. He could not tell Edward, either, yet. He might be his roommate, and possibly his new...friend, as hesitant as he was to call him that, but he could not trust him right now. "I have done some in school, yes, sir," Jonathan answered proudly. "The human mind is a fascinating complex that nothing is ever as it seems, and it deserves credit to be understood."

Victor Warner looked like he'd be physically appealing despite his age, Jonathan noted without labeling himself or feeling like a homosexual. His dark hair was in a soft fringe over his right eye, not holding one trace of gray, and his face had few wrinkles, notably on his neck and the sides of his mouth. His nose was very small and nearly feminine. And his smile was very friendly. "Indeed it does, Jonathan, my boy." He reached over and put his hand on Jonathan's shoulder, squeezing it - and the pressure sent a little shiver through his body. "I see greatness in you already. Perhaps you might make it out of here in four years instead of five or six. If you try your hardest, as we all tell our students."

Then his attention shifted to Edward, whom he had not focused on until now and who never said a word to him. Jonathan looked over and saw Edward still eyeing the professor in a way he didn't like. It was like Dr. Warner was a puzzle he was trying to solve, a puzzle he did not like in the slightest.

This was going to be an interesting semester, to start with.

~o~

 _Today_

When Iris returned home, she was trying so hard not to think about what she had accidentally stumbled across when she was just leaving for the night - and Joan's shift had not ended yet. Iris had been leaving with her classy and stylish black leather handbag slung over her shoulder when she stopped before the broom closet on her way out the door and just _had_ to peek inside through the crack - only to find Edward pounding hard and fast into _Dr. Leland_. Before she'd turned away and went to her car, she'd heard Eddie panting in spite of himself that someone could walk in on them, but they had continued nevertheless. Iris was still blushing hot after it all even though she hadn't been caught by them.

How many times ANY day did they have for each other? If not her, someone else amongst the staff could find out about them and report to her, forcing her to try and save her good friend and Edward's lover.

"Iris!" Alice was right in front of her in a split second, and she jumped, having not acknowledged her presence first thing. "Iris, at the office, I was on the phone all day, and you will never believe this, but I knew you'd say yes to this…"

"Please do tell," Iris spoke tiredly as she headed for the elevator for her room, wanting to soak into a hot bath and then simply grab some soup before going straight to sleep. For some odd reason, the day had been longer than she thought, but maybe it was also because of what she saw in the broom closet and failed to report as the head director.

"We should get Dr. Crane's room prepared for when he's released!"

Iris stopped in her tracks and stared at her sister in surprise, suddenly awake and aware. Alice was beaming expectantly, still in her navy blue military-style suit jacket and matching A-line dress. "You seriously want Jonathan's room prepared for him? As much as I would love that, his 'recovery' is still a long way to go, and I have yet to break this to him..."

"Oh, tush!" Alice interrupted, pressing the _Up_ button for them. "We know he'll get out in due time. I called them anyway, and they said they'd be here Thursday morning."

"Three days!" She could only imagine the renovation people arriving just as she was awaking to begin her routine, or perhaps accidentally damaging precious antiques when she wasn't around.

"But they'll begin after you leave," Alice promised as if she heard what she was thinking. "And I don't go in until later than you anyways."

"Makes me feel a lot better."

Now she was alone in her room. Breathing a sigh of relief, Iris threw her bag onto the bed before sitting at the foot to slip off her boots. She owned a few black leather handbags before, except they had mostly been Maria's and a ridiculously large amount, so after Maria died, Iris had to pawn many of them away to the Goodwill. Iris then walked over to the dresser to slip off her jewelry. First went the pearl-and-diamond studs, then the ring, and finally the pendant. She stared at the stone of her birth and remembered the birthday just days after her first experiment that _he_ gave this to her.

~o~

 _8 years ago..._

"Iris, if you could come here, please."

Jonathan noticed how she strode more confidently now, now that her handling of Mina Rosenberg had been taken care of. Right afterwards, the creature had been dropped off on the side of the street as a sign that she had been drinking, and most likely to get arrested for it. And most of all, he noticed how lovely she looked today in her teal shirt with the round neckline to display her femininity if not to draw so much attention - and hemmed at the waist to beautifully define and flatter her curves - and her slim black jeans with the black patent pumps. Fifteen years old…fifteen she was now, and no longer the child he met two years ago, but a beautiful teen on the brink of womanhood. But she did not look happy in her expression.

"You're not happy," he noted, "and it's your birthday," he added with a little smile. He anxiously fingered the present he bought her in his pants pocket.

She nodded and sat down at the edge of his desk, something he would not have tolerated if it had been class, but everyone else had piled out. "Today's my birthday, and it's Halloween, but Mother is hosting my party at home. I'm really frightened."

Of course he knew about it all, and he had been invited "as Iris' teacher", according to the personal invitation from Maria DeLaine. He scowled and looked down at the file he'd personally drawn on the world-famous model. As a teenager, she had been diagnosed with severe narcissistic and bi-polar disorders - a rather lethal combination, indeed, to make her an unbearable person to tolerate. Which gave him an explanation as to why she would lay a hand on her poor, defenseless daughter - and another as to why her husband had left her. It was an open secret that Marcus DeLaine had abandoned her and took a mistress before he tired of her and returned to his wife, which bore Iris, but even that didn't stop the great scandal: he had a daughter born before Iris with his mistress. Marcus DeLaine died of HIV when Iris was only four years old, and that was when the trouble with Maria began.

"I won't let her frighten you," he promised her as he took her hand into his. "I've had to deal with my grandmother when she was alive, and I survived."

"I wish my mother died when I got here," she whispered. "Like your grandmother did."

He tightened his hold on her hand, but not hard enough to caught a bruise or broken bone. "It doesn't always happen that way. Life is as it is, but we have our ways to make it through. Now…" He reached into his pocket. "…I have a present for the birthday girl."

She gasped at the pendant dangling from the smooth black chord as inky as her hair, that teardrop-shaped opal - her birthstone - outlined with sterling silver and overlapped with a single vine and a few leaves to shimmer and almost blend with the ivory of her skin. "It's beautiful," she whispered as she pushed her hair aside to let him clasp it around her neck. It rested against her chest, just above her heart.

He smiled and shook his head. "No, correction, my cherished pupil…" He took her chin into his hand and looked into her eyes. "… _you_ are beautiful."

~o~

 _Today_

Steam was clouding the mirrors as Iris turned the water onto the hottest setting she could, and moisture began to pour from her flesh, first under her clothes, which she revealed to the air as she exposed herself to the humidity of the room. The teal cardigan was off and thrown over a chair, before the tight silk black dress was gone and she was left in her underwear again. The bra - silk ruched cups overtopped with lace - was tossed away, soon followed by the thong, which was low rising with a sheer floral lace pattern. She stepped into the water, hissing as she sustained scorching heat from the water, then submerged herself under it and recalled the events that began and ended with Mina Rosenberg.

 **Edward Nygma's backstory involving how Batman took his life from him as well stems from both the animated series of the 90s as well as the TV show Gotham. Add in that his and Joan Leland's relationship is as complicated as Iris and Jonathan's. Complicated is always the best way to put it, as well as devious. They're words Vytina would use for them, too.**

 **Now I finally bring you the original male character I mentioned when we started, who WILL become major much later. My favorite actor Jeffrey Combs is Dr. Victor Warner, Jon and Eddie's psych professor from college days. I've been a HUGE fan of Jeffrey Combs for a long while now. He is known as Herbert West in the Re-Animator movie franchise, Weyoun in Star Trek: Deep Space 9, voicing the Scarecrow in The New Batman Adventures - and Herbert West and Weyoun, I have done fics of them, too. :D Combs is one of those actors who has a wonderful, unique voice that can do both good and evil while remaining very creepy.**

 **In "The Boundaries of Friendship", Bruce Wayne was the protective one who saw their psychology professor as a menace to an oblivious Jonathan Crane, and as a result of physically defending him, he gets expelled from Princeton. However, this time, Edward Nygma does that job although won't get physical and stays with his friend and roommate the whole time of the suffering. As well, he will witness what Jonathan does as revenge in the end.**


	7. Dark Obsession

**After Iris was assaulted in the originals, no one but her professor believed her, so Crane helped her in the end. Dr. Long (the dean of GSU from BTAS) did not believe either of them, leaving Crane on his own. Helped her take her revenge. ;) You would never believe the depravity of how she handled the main ringleader of the jocks - but this time is a certain blonde bitch from earlier. I felt everything as though it was myself that I wanted to make Vytina proud right here with Iris' revenge.**

Chapter Six

Dark Obsession

 _8 years ago…_

Five days. Five days since that terrible night. Fourteen-year-old Iris could still feel everything as they maimed, mauled, and scarred her worse than her mother could ever do to her….

She was almost fifteen, and _this_ happened to her just before then. She was able to live with the pushing and shoving and verbal taunts…but this crossed the line.

Professor Crane had been around her more often since then. He was being more…protective of her since the incident. He had helped her report it the next day, but Dr. Long took the word of the fools over her, the victim. Crane even defended her, but Long threatened his position if this went uglier than it already was. Both he and Iris knew better as they did all along - no one would have believed her anyway. This was just like it had been with their families: No one would help them. They were all on their own.

But not as long as they had each other.

His words remained from since that day of the reporting. _"They will not get away with their crimes against a beautiful, bright, gifted young one like you, Iris, I assure you of that. The time will come sooner than either you or they think."_

The mid-October wind brushed against her face and sent chills down her spine. Her dark navy V-neck sweater and sanded dark blue bootflare denims didn't do much protection either, and neither did the clutching of her book to her chest. No one of the group from that night even encountered her again - yet - but she had to get to Professor Crane's office fast. Besides sharing her dorm with Alice, his office was the only other place she ever felt safe.

The door was left open for her - to her, it was strange, for Professor Crane had never done that before. She hesitantly pushed it open and slipped inside, closing the door behind her as she looked around. "Professor Crane?" she called anxiously. "Are you here?"

 **"He is not present at the time, Miss DeLaine. He has left me to substitute."** She jumped and turned to see the figure sitting at the desk where her teacher always resided. The figure in the pressed gray suit of her professor, the crisp white collar shirt and the vivid tie mingled with various blue tones - light blue, like his eyes, dark blue like her sweater, and a darker, more poisonous sapphire like her own eyes - and sitting behind the rich mahogany L-shaped desk straight and poised…the head covered with what resembled a potato sack hideously stitched, two holes cut for the eyes, and the stitched mouth turned down at the corners…that rasping voice that was _not_ Jonathan Crane's…

"Who are you?" Iris asked, keeping herself composed. And then it hit her, not something he told her himself, but what she recalled from her class. "Scarecrow…"

He chuckled. **"You have scored the high honors. You are finally meeting the other side of your dear professor. You might be...frightened of me now, but I trust you will grow quite fond? I know more about the study of fear as well as your teacher."** He stood from behind his desk and walked her way, his polished shoes making soft clicks on the floor with each step. **"He promised you the time came to give the fools who maimed you the lesson they will never forget, beginning with one. I trust you want to hear their screams after so long a wait."** The moment he was before her and towered over her, he reached behind her to lock the door, not to frighten her with the fact that he would do something to her, to betray her after everything they'd been through, but to keep whoever else from coming in.

She stared up into his masked face, in particular the holes that showed two icy blues - his eyes. Her knees wobbled, threatening to give way beneath her. A feeling she had been developing since day one when they first met was returning. "Please take me to the first," she whispered, the dark side she knew she had finally slowly coming out, mingled with trepidation and fear beneath its excited surface.

Those eyes blinked behind the mask before leaning forward to study her closely. **"I will make sure this will be a moment you hold with immense clarity for the remainder of your days, child. I am his wilder, stronger side he never lets loose except on the best of occasions. Now is one of them."**

It dawned on her that his ravaged childhood prompted the birth of a second personality…the Scarecrow. No wonder he was so fascinated with fear, with the darker mysteries of the human mind. But it didn't change her perception of him.

 **"The start of your revenge will also be your first lesson in instilling fear. I'll be your tour guide through the museum of the human mind."** His hand had taken hers and began to lead the way forward, away from the door.

Iris was surprised by the sight she saw, but she only gasped - she was not the sort to cry out - at her surroundings. Professor Crane - or rather, Scarecrow - had installed a secret room behind his bookcase similar to that of a horror movie when the mad scientist hid his secret lab behind a bookcase or an abandoned room below the farthest reaches. Here she met mostly darkness, but not complete darkness for the sunlamp over the metal operating table in the middle of the room. Tables filled with assorted bubbling chemicals and test tubes and beakers stenched the air with their various aromas.

Scarecrow's voice hissed seductively in her ear as he gestured to the struggling creature strapped to the metal table. **"You do remember her, do you not?"**

"Mina Rosenberg."

 **"Correct you are. No one can ever forget the every day taunts commonly from her above anyone else in this university - it was she moreso than the others who did you harm. Who can ever forget that? Just as who can forget the pain you felt and bestowed upon your poor teacher when you came to him, and I watched from the canals of his mind as he tended to your injuries and held you by the fire, telling you the stories of his own dark past not at all different from yours - and how he will never be like his own professor who betrayed him in the end? How he promised you that your retribution would come...and now it has. And he has let ME loose to be the one for the first step."**

He chuckled against the mouth of his mask as he leaned down; at the same time, Iris turned to look up at him, her body thrumming with his words as she wanted to get this over with, but then she might not have the time to savor any minute of it. **"Now that I have given you all the information you need, tell me what you want of this whore."**

"I want to break this _bitch,_ " she answered, the foul word for a woman sweet on her tongue, and it made him laugh darkly at her lack of shame. "This filthy WHORE who humiliated me long enough. I want to give her the pain she gave me, turn the tides on her and make her scream for mercy I won't give. I'll give her a taste of her own fears."

He handed her a syringe filled with a clear yellow liquid. She looked up again to see the cruel seduction and darkness in his eyes. **"Then do the honors, my dear goddess."**

She stepped forward and sneered at the girl who looked up at her with such hatred because she was younger and thought she was smarter - and she was. Mina was in a buttercup-colored dress - happiness, but also for fear. Ironic, Iris thought with her sneer still in place as she towered over the older girl whose lip curled at the sight of her.

"What are you playing at now, slut?" Mina spat.

Iris satisfied herself by striking her across the face, palm open and nails scratching across her pretty little face enough to leave dark red scratches. "Slut is a filthy word, Mina," she said softly. "But that's not a word for myself that I associated myself with, unlike yourself with the rambunctious activities you prefer to do out of anything else important. Was that enough for you to take your petty jealousy out onto me, an innocent fourteen-year-old girl leaving the library the same time you and your man-whore and pack were coming my way from a waste?"

"If you don't let go of me -" Mina snarled, struggling again only to be struck again, this time crying as her little mild injuries were stinging in her skin. "Dr. Long will punish you for this."

"He won't ever know about this, Mina. If you don't tell him; this is the only means of assuring me that you won't. Today I'll take back what you and your pack ripped from me, show you who is in control now. You know what they say: karma retribution. Only this is more than just karma, Mina. It is you who is the failure, who will never be truly happy. Your sins always come back and bite you on the ass, as the common say."

The whore's eyes were wide with unbridled horror at the sight of the yellow-gold needle in her hands that soon reached the vulnerable, exposed area of her neck, her screams intoxicating far more than anything beautiful in the world.

~o~

 _Today_

After she was done and donning her robe once more, skin flushed a deep rose, Iris headed for the closet to hang her clothes up. It was there that she caught sight of it in the far corner of the walk-in closet, far beyond the confides of everything else.

Her mother's wedding dress.

Iris had no idea at first as to why it had been kept, but Alice had suggested it, as perhaps she would tie the knot one day. Never in her wildest dreams had Iris ever considered marriage, but lately she had been plagued with out-of-nowhere daydreams about her standing in a beautiful white dress before her groom in black - her groom being none other than Jonathan. This had taken her by surprise, but it was a great image nevertheless. When she was a teenager - given that teenagers were natural about always thinking about intimacy, but with Iris it was just a pastime - she used to have her "private moments" about her professor, but after he was fired following the discovery of his experiments on Mina's followers before her birthday, she had stopped as it turned out to be foolish that she would never end up with a man she would never see again - which proved her wrong after their reunion.

She looked upon the billowing dress with a critical eye. The timeless magnificence of lace and crystals was undeniable; in weddings, lace was as age-old a tradition as the institution of marriage itself. Crystals had been added over time to make it more memorable and a dream come true to most brides. With this, traditional had been updated. The Chantilly lace appliquéd bodice was accented with thousands of Swarovski crystals, straps holding the bodice in place, complemented by a traditional ball gown skirt made of organza and more crystals. She imagined Maria receiving praises from the simpering women with flashy dreams of their future wedding days.

Her hair was still wet and hanging down her back from her bath. Leaving the closet, she walked over to her dresser to pick up her intricate silver hairbrush and ran its pure bristles through her locks to smooth them out, staring at her reflection and wondering how to still get Jonathan to talk to her, as she remembered him telling her a long time ago about his college professor after what Mina Rosenberg and her posse did to her...

~o~

 _Jonathan lay on his back, his eyes tightly shut…until he opened them to brilliant sunlight and the smell of fresh air, even better than an Irish spring. He saw a cloudless blue sky with a perfect golden sun smiling down at him, assuring him that he was free from the evils of the outside world of where he was now. He sat up, savoring the pleasure that followed the stretching of his muscles, and looked down and saw he wore an opened white collar shirt and loose black pants, his feet bare. He smiled, not minding at all. But there was one thing missing._

 _"Jonathan…"_

 _He bolted to his feet, searching his surroundings to find that he was in_ her _backyard garden - the extravagant gardens of DeLaine Manor - but how did he get here? Not that it mattered anyways. He had to find_ her.

 _He saw a flash of black before his eyes, before it vanished in a split second before he could comprehend what direction it went. But he knew the shortcuts and routes of this place all too well, this living blueprint of thousands of acres of lavish cultivations of nature. Jonathan stood up and bolted down the steps and into the main gardens, the pathway lined with brilliant stoned vases each festooned with their own small fountains and filled with sweetly scented red flowers. He was currently in the_ parterre _, which was in the center and the main focal of the beginning, which merged beautifully with spiraling paths of smooth gravel with decorative emerald grasses and shrubs as the boundaries, added with some Japanese plant life and more of the red flora from the vases behind him. In the middle of this area was a grand gold statue of the love and beauty goddess, Aphrodite._

 _His feet met the warmth of the smooth white stone ground as his eyes beheld the sight of the infinite one-acre pool with a spraying fountain in the center. The water shimmered a blue unlike any other if even more brilliant than Iris' favorite teal blue. The boat itself sat there at the foot of the mini dock, waiting for him. Since there was no guide to take him across the vast sea, he brought himself over to the edge of the grand pool to where a terrace of carved marble stood. Beyond it laid yet another spectacular water garden and naturally made on its own._

 _The veranda overlooked down below to where the sunken gardens rested. Completely unexpected, but a sight you'd be unable to tear your eyes away from. It was the realm of Poseidon, the lord of the sea, but everything from the walls, steps, the grotto and everything warm mosaic and bronze, and Italian stone. In sunlight, the water glowed a timeless turquoise; out of the light, it was a soft silvery blue; at night, it was a dark indigo particularly under moonlight._

 _Jonathan saw the flash of black again, this time vanishing into the forestry off to the right side - but he knew she was heading for their favorite spot in this whole place, right where she was beckoning him to. He took those side stairs and down to where the colonnade stood in all its regality and monumentality. Beyond that and more unexpected than the sunken gardens was the pond in a dark sliver, which shone like a mirror and reflected upon coming closer. Its vastness was an acre larger than the pool now far behind him. Instead of taking a boat this time, he chose to take a walk in Nature's embrace until it took every breath in his body just to get to her. On the side of the pond lay a beautiful stone bridge amidst a stunning forest._

 _And at the very end of the isolated, naturalistic section of the wilderness lay a glowing white temple gazebo, where the figure in black stood in the center in the very image of Artemis, the goddess of the moon and the hunt, her skirt billowing gently but her back facing him so she was looking out at the rustics. Her long mane of ebony hair flapped gentler than a raven's wing. While he walked along the side of his destination, he took in the statuary baskets of cascading flowers supported by dwarf-sized statues of Artemis herself. Discovering he wasn't out of breath after his long journey - an oddity he didn't care about at the moment, rather focusing on this beautiful creature in the center of the temple - he ascended the three-leveled stairs until he stood at the top and gazed at her. Her arms were covered with long sleeves, the opal shimmering above her bared heart, the long skirt slit at both sides to ease her walks, and her slim curves graced._

 _"You took your time."_

 _Her voice was low and rich, always nothing like the high squeaks of girls before her. "I couldn't let you get away from me," he purred, inhaling her passionate smell on her skin and the sprightly Moroccan incense in her hair. His hands started at her waist and up, over her front until they found her breasts, caressing and squeezing gently, eliciting moans from her. Oh, he desired her, desired her so bad it hurt. He had wanted her ever since she was thirteen years old when back then it was forbidden and positively likely to end him up with the animals of the city. Slowly, he undressed her from the shoulders down until the black velvet dress pooled around her feet and revealed absolutely nothing under there. Soon, his own clothes were gone so his body was completely bare and against hers now, out in the open to Mother Nature's eyes._

 _How they ended up on the smooth stone ground beneath, he wasn't sure; all he was aware of was that she was laying beneath him, looking up with glittering eyes full of love and desire, dark and light at the same time that it made him short of breath as their skin touched..._

~o~

He expected Edward to wake up as he always did, see him sweating and panting, but he was not here. He had broken out again, did a miracle but for what reason? He was trying to get out of here like Jon was, but maybe it was because he wasn't satisfied anymore with waiting for Joan until working day. His pent-up frustrations sometimes got the best of him.

Now he was alone to his own thoughts that Edward had been bothering him about long enough. It was too late to turn back now to denial.

This new dream about Iris...it had shoved aside the one that haunted him long enough. He wanted her here, like in the garden of her home in his vision. He was sick and tired of sleeping alone and with his best friend near him like in college. This wasn't college anymore, and this environment was closing in on him. It wasn't long ago before all of this she would sometimes fix his tie innocently - not so innocent in her eyes and smile - before leaving him to work or at the end of the day. Every time her hand touched his, his skin would burn, his blood burn and his heart pumping faster than it should.

Or, like right now, at night, he would wake up from dreams that had him in this current state he was happy Eddie did not see him in.

 **The dream sequence further examines the parts of the DeLaine Manor gardens, which is far better than the rest of the house itself, if you ask me. (dreamy sigh) Breathtaking, it's not funny.**

 **Things are about to take a more sinister tone by the next chapter or two, but either way, Iris slowly begins to uncover pieces of the mystery behind her beloved Jonathan's nightmares and his old college professor.**


	8. Complications with Teachers and Mothers

**A certain scene with Edward and Iris is based off of one in one of my favorite comedies, "Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle". XD And trouble with Dr. Victor Warner, portrayed by and based off of Jeffrey Combs, coming along. Things are getting tense.**

Chapter Seven

Complications with Teachers and Mothers

 _14 years ago..._

Being roommates was slowly growing on the both of them, as Jonathan was slowly opening up to being friends with him, and it made Edward happy. It had been a long time since he had anyone physical to talk to; he and Joan were still communicating over the Skype and on the phone, and she was doing well in the early months. She was as hard-working and dedicated as he was. Pathology with Dr. Anya Rogers was coming along, but with Dr. Victor Warner in psychology? He had to say things were...interesting, but not in a positive way.

It was due to the fact he didn't like the way Warner looked at Jonathan for an extended period of time than he should.

Edward normally knew his eyes weren't tricking him, so he was sure now was no exception. Jonathan seemed to notice, too, but he would not fool Edward and pretend he didn't. He just seemed to want to deal with this on his own, which he highly doubted.

Three months in the making, and now things got even more strange with Warner. Every day when class ended, Jon had an excuse to stay longer after class or would get called by Warner; Edward would wait outside and watch, finally noticing how Warner would lean so close to Jonathan, and the younger man would take a little step back only for the man to follow him...and sometimes his face was too close to Jonathan's as if he wanted to look into his eyes...or maybe...

He quickly pulled himself away and closed his eyes, tempted to yank off his glasses and rub his eyes but didn't have it in himself. To assume that Dr. Victor Warner might have a sickening infatuation for his roommate and friend was more than he could tolerate. He couldn't just jump to the conclusion that it was what he thought; a theory meant nothing without proof. He had to find some form of Victor Warner's interest in Jonathan, somehow.

~o~

 _Today_

Things went her way since her mother died, her career on the right track, those she loved protected - with the exception of the Riddler himself breaking into her home in the middle of the night.

In other words, Iris found herself waking up to find a _very_ _nude_ Edward Nygma standing before her dresser mirror, his back facing her. She shrieked and bolted up in her bed, gathering the covers to hide her own nudity. "Hey - what the _hell_ are you doing?!"

He turned around to face her if not all the way to show whatever it was he was doing - she only guessed, but didn't exactly want to know…and then he ruined it by telling her. "Oh, Iris, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you - I thought you slept like a log. I'm trimming my pubes." He spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world - but to awake and find a naked man in her bedroom in yet _another_ ungodly hour of the night was enough to drive her on the edge.

"Why aren't you doing this in the bathroom? And what the hell are you doing out of the asylum? You could have rigged the security alarm and ended it all! Might as well have gotten me into trouble!" Iris struggled to keep her voice low so Alice or Jervis wouldn't come in, before she remembered that the walls were thick as stone.

Eddie laughed. "Well, let's just say that your room was the fastest I could get to so I can prep for a certain doctor of mine for next time." He turned around to offer a view of his "handiwork". Iris squeaked and quickly adverted her eyes. She feared going blind seeing _all_ of him. "Hey, check it out. It's like a bonsai tree, and it makes the little guy look totally bigger."

"Please!" Iris hoped that when she would open her eyes that it would all be a bad dream and that she would fall asleep again and start her morning as normal, but the bad news was that Edward was still in her room - and still in his birthday suit all because he was preparing himself for Joan of all places of all times - and holding… "Are those my scissors?!" Iris bolted up, forgetting her robe and the fact that she, too, was naked to snatch them away from his hand. "You idiot, I trim my nose hair with these!"

He stared first at her, then the scissors in her hand, and then down over her body in disbelief. "Doc, I've used those just now to cut my ass hair for Joan to make shoving a vibrator up there easier."

The images produced were sure to do things to her poor mind after a while. "Get dressed," she ordered, pointing to the bathroom where he surely left his clothing as she did not see them anywhere in the room. "Get dressed and get out of my room." She adverted her eyes once again when he turned away from her but to offer another view of his backside, before walking to where she kept her robe and slipped it on and head out to the balcony outside her room for some fresh air.

This was what she loved about balconies, especially with her home. The master bedroom was facing the back of the manor outdoors, where she had her views of the vast garden landscape and all. Some minutes passed, and she was sitting on the carved balustrade railing when she heard footsteps join her, and saw Eddie sit on her opposite from the corner of her eye. "Do you always sleep in the nude?" he asked casually, regarding her.

"Do you always treat yourself in the nude?" Iris returned.

He laughed. "Touché." She scoffed in disgust, but he ignored her. "You should have guessed I wasn't here only because of midnight shaving and trimming for my woman. It's Jonathan. I know my best friend that well, and that means how much you two care for each other."

She straightened up and finally looked at him. "How do you know that? Is it because of your romps with one of my doctors despite the fact you two have been together long before that?"

"No, it's because I know how close you guys are. Jonathan is my friend, and I've always looked out for him. Long before you met him as his student. You might have known him for a decade, but for me, it was longer than that. You're the one helping him. You haven't experienced it yet, but you saw how difficult it was to be reduced from doctor to patient in the very same place he ran that was left to you."

"You're right," Iris agreed, remembering her horror when she was informed of her beloved's incarceration. "No, he doesn't belong there. Neither do you, regardless of what everyone else thinks. They say that the Rogues' sanities can't be given back, but I'm proving them wrong."

"Maybe it's more than just that. I love Joan, so I can say the same for you two."

She felt like her heart had exploded into trillions of pieces, blood and all, firing up her system. Edward - he had just said that Jonathan was in LOVE with her! She didn't know what to say. It was the middle of the night and...

"Oh, Iris, come on, don't look so surprised. You know it as well as I do. But you're too proud to admit it, like he is. You have so much in common with him that you two still work it out, never mind he's your patient. I told him that he was holding it back and doesn't even know it; I notice everything when I'm not a psychiatrist."

And if he was still her patient, then a relationship was not possible. It might be with Edward and Dr. Leland, but with Iris and Jonathan? She didn't want to further complicate anything, that was all.

~o~

 _14 years ago..._

Edward decided to sneak to the professor's house which was on campus, as he discovered Dr. Victor Warner liked to hit the bar not that far down the block every day after work. He had no family, it seemed, so it was easy for Edward to do what he had to. He wasn't sure if there were any alarms, but all he knew was that he had to move fast. Not that he was a stranger of getting in and out of anything.

As a boy, when his father would pass out drunk, he was free to poke through anything to get anything he wanted; even when his father locked everything up, he would always find means of backup instead of the keys. So it was easy for him to enter through the back of Warner's house. The professor's car was not in the driveway - or could it be in the garage? He had to be extra careful then.

Victor Warner's living was very modest, old-fashioned and modern at the same time, with leather brown couches and glass tables everywhere, lamps of brass; though some places and glass shelves filled with antiquities. He must have inherited them from past relatives, some things Russian and Egyptian - he must have a taste for ancient history. There were also numerous portraits of the men in his family before him. Edward felt his lip curl in disgust. It was like he stepped inside the mind of a narcissist.

He found himself distracted when he saw a brass picture frame on a shelf not that far away from him. There looked like a much younger Victor Warner, classified as nearly feminine and not at all different from Jon - with the absence of glasses. Beside him was an exotic-looking woman, young but older than he was. Her hair was in long ebony waves, her eyes light blue and full of life...was this woman his wife or girlfriend?

Either way, she seemed like she was a thing of the past he didn't want to let go.

Edward remembered why he was really here and tore his attention to the rest of the house. He began to search for anything that could very much be a clue to Dr. Warner's attraction...

So far, nothing. If he was hiding anything, then he did a "fine" job, Edward would give him that. He had just reached the study, noticing the timeless Old English fashion and appeal, and this might be the last resort. He dove behind the desk and began to rummage through the drawers, seeing nothing but paperwork and important documents like medical health...

"Just what exactly are you looking for, Mr. Nygma?"

The voice forced him to step back, and he gritted his teeth behind tight lips as he looked straight at the man who stood in the doorway. He'd been tricked, after all! Warner anticipated he would come here, so he set him up. Why didn't he expect that?! "You knew I would come."

"I might have," Warner stated casually as he stepped into the room. "But to break into my house was the last thing I expected from an intelligent young man like yourself."

"I know the way you looked at Jonathan," Edward answered, lower lip drawing back. "And I will not let you take him for whatever sick fetishes you have, Professor -"

"Fetishes?" He cut him off with a bark of a laugh. "I'm not the one who harbors an unhealthy fascination with fears and phobias like your friend, which from experience, must have come from some form of trauma in his early life. He isn't even worthy to be a doctor in the field - and what about you, Edward, hmm? Why are you even friends with a clearly unstable young man who hasn't even realized it - and what do you yourself hope to accomplish if your dirtiest secret ever got out if I don't get what I want, and that is your friend?"

Edward felt himself stiffen. His mind was whispering that the man knew what he did, but he would not let himself collapse. "What the hell are you talking about, old man?" he sneered. "You don't know jack about my life."

Warner _tsked_ and held up a finger as he walked into the room, pulling something from his jacket pocket. "On the contrary, Edward, I knew your father. Joseph and I were old drinking buddies before his death, so before I even learned about his demise and his body found in the river, it might have been by chance that I saw everything happen that his only son, seventeen-year-old Edward, had carried his body to the bridge and tossed him from there, in the middle of the night and all. I'm a night owl, as it is."

Well, his father had gotten what he deserved, as he felt no shame in the deed. He wanted nothing more than to call the man's bluff, but every explicit detail was exactly how it happened. "You're bluffing, Professor. No one will believe you as you have no proof of this."

"Don't I?"

His heart fell to the floor when he saw a familiar photograph of himself in a raincoat and gloves to hide his prints and any evidence of himself - and his father's body in the long black trash bag. Correction: wrapped in multiple black bags to cover anything at all. It had been the only means to remove any DNA traces, make it difficult to find as water was known to clean everything away.

And it was caught on camera photograph. Kept secret for a year for what means? Had Warner _planned_ this?

"You might have had drinking rounds with Dad at night," Edward spat, looking up at the man who only smiled, "but you don't really know what kind of man he was."

"On the contrary," Warner repeated, monotoned but otherwise devious, "I knew everything and how much he despised you for being a reminder of your mother, sweet Lilli, who left you and didn't bother to take you with her. But that is beside the point. This going out to the public, for your friend if he wants to become a doctor of psychiatry in a short amount of time. What will it be, Edward?"

~o~

 _6 years later..._

If there was anything Jonathan hated about the high of Gotham society, it was formal affair excuses of birthday parties like Iris' mother hosted for her daughter, nearly resembling a quinceanera. Damn the abuse of money, regardless of how majestic it was. He pitied Iris for her life here before she left for GSU and had to return once in a while for events like these. If he ever encountered Maria DeLaine in person, he would confront her and give her a piece of his mind without a heated outbreak and have the girl end up in greater peril than she was already in.

"Ah, Professor Jonathan Crane, I presume. My daughter informed me that you would come - as her favored teacher and guide in the field she's excelling." Speak of the devil…

"Mrs. DeLaine," Jonathan replied coldly as he turned around to meet face-to-face with the woman who conceived his prized student. "What a surprise, indeed. And you look rather…ravishing. Or ravenous. Or both of them all at once." Ravenous was the perfect term, for the visually striking orange dress dark to the point of resembling blood swirled with her publicly hidden twisted nature. The black crystals around her neck looped numerous times in a similarly twisted fashion. All went well with the sadistic persona of this woman who had made Iris' life hell as his own had been at the hands of his grandmother - whom he was glad to be dead as it had been at his own hands…and that meant that this evil queen had to be offed by Iris sooner or later if not now.

The irresistible, classic scent of the newest fragrance delivered by Maria - cinnamon, peach, rose, sandalwood, and musk - filled his nostrils as soon as his beloved student's mother was in front of him. It would have been delicious if it weren't for who the current wearer was. Maria gave him a twitch of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. "I should say I'm flattered, Professor, but can we agree that it's honest or dishonest of me?"

"Psychologist's instincts tell me that you wish for me to notice you as all the other desirable men around you desire that surgical crafted body of yours, Maria." _Time to spring the trap_ , he thought with a smile at the one fading on the woman's maliciously red mouth.

"Are you calling me a fraud, doctor?" she sneered. "I'd hate to have to haul you out myself for being ungrateful at my daughter's birthday party."

"A party that you only throw every year for the sake of appearances. Do not fool me, Maria DeLaine. As a doctor and professor of psychology, I analyze everyone and I never overdo it, much less underdo it. And I can clearly see for myself the nature of your relationship with your daughter."

Maria let out a sharp hiss of breath through her teeth and drew back an inch. "You know nothing. No one would ever believe you and that little freak bitch over me. I am -"

That just about pushed the last of his buttons. Jonathan leaned forward, avoiding grabbing a hold of the woman as to avoid attention and making it look like the threat of assault. "I know what you are. A narcissistic bipolar who relies on her own appearance for what she wants. And who depraves her child, her daughter - her own flesh and blood - of all people to ensure that her foul face isn't overseen. I've read your private therapy file from when you were seventeen years old, not much older than Iris is now. I see more good in Iris more than I see of you. In fact, you remind me of my grandmother who got her revenge on me all because her teenage daughter went and had a child with a man who wanted her for sexual reasons only and abandoned us before I was born. She never loved me and so left me before I got into middle school. Grandmother would lock me in with the crows and douse her religion on me - but I never broke." He gave her a twisted grin at the horror in her eyes, but her face remained hard and cold as stone.

"When I graduated high school and got into Gotham State University, I never saw her again. So here is the point I am trying to make, Maria: One day Iris will overshadow you and empower you as I had done so. She's still alive and standing after all this time, and you will lose the battle. Mark my words, for you shall lose everything in the blink of an eye."

He kept the smile when Maria scoffed off his warning. "That girl hasn't the guts to do that to her own mother. I know her all too well - she's nothing but a scrawny skeletal thing compared to this." She gestured to her own body.

Jonathan chuckled and shook his head. "So sure about that." He didn't have the chance to continue at her gob-smacked expression before a collective "Ooooh!" arose from the crowd. All faces were turned upwards to the top of the left side of the grand staircase to where a goddess stood at the base of the final platform of the stairs. The gown she wore was black and teal - her colors - with the sweetheart neckline of the black-flower-and-sequin-embroidered corset outlining her naturally small curves and the skirts of teal satin and black organza tissue billowing like a blue rose in bloom. Her naturally raven curls tumbled down her back, too, in billowing waves, with a delicate and dainty circlet of Celtic filigree accented with a moonstone at her forehead, a matching necklace around her neck, earrings in her ears as well as a cuff adorning her right wrist. Her nails were painted a shimmering teal so dark it was almost black, like her gown.

Jonathan's breath caught in his throat as he realized how _bedazzling_ his student was - and how grown up she truly was. His heart pounded with pride and _lust_ and -

He stopped right there. _No, no lust_ , he told himself even though the feeling was still there. He had been finding it very difficult to keep any emotion regarding lust shoved down further below his heart and stomach. Since the beginning he had vowed _never_ to have a repeat like what happened between him and Dr. Warner happen again even if he wasn't Warner and the student wasn't him. It had to be purely professional, personal later.

Except it was too difficult considering that Iris was too beautiful to put out of his mind.

She descended the stairs like a petal off a rose with grace and charm like the socialite the public saw her as, except he knew who and what she was beneath that shell. In spite of himself, he left Maria DeLaine - smirking as he saw, from the corner of his eye, how jealous she looked like Snow White's wicked stepmother - and met the young woman at the bottom. She smiled at him. "Professor."

"Iris." He breathed her name. "Beautiful." He sounded like a love-struck teenager to his own ears - a status he had refused to deduce himself to - but at that moment, he didn't care. "Will you care for a dance with your professor?" he asked, holding his right hand out for her. She laid her hand - small, spidery, and graceful as his own - into his palm, and they were the first to enter through the doorway to the ballroom; on either side of them stood a simple Egyptian pillar paired with a bejeweled gold-and-black-and-red pharaoh's sarcophagus that stood less than a foot taller than any man.

Even though he hadn't seen every room of the mansion - not yet, anyway - Jonathan could see, counting the ballroom, that every room of the DeLaine home was ridden with various exotic themes. The few arched windows were influenced by the Middle East, whilst the rest of the room was pure Egyptian - the opulent splendor of the Egyptian pharaohs or into the mystics of a Middle Eastern palace combined. The ballroom was lavishly decorated with sweeping lotus columns supporting the ceiling and roof, and ornamentation consisting of a carpet of silk in a vase and _mihrab_ design - the whole room was lit up brightly, too brightly in Jonathan's eyes - with a chandelier that had been constructed from Italian gold and Swarovski crystals and suspended from a carved ceiling of glowing ivory and gold. Ironic that these societal ignorants didn't dare consider that within such lavish walls lurked evil inflicted on a single innocent individual. But someday it would be that innocent to win it all in the end.

A very slow keyboard sound of music began to fill the room as he brought her to the middle of the room, a song he recognized as the slow-moving, death-filled but exotic _Cantara_. "What were you saying to my mother not too long ago?" Iris questioned quietly as she placed her right hand on his left shoulder while her other hand met his right forearm.

Jonathan brought his right hand to the tiny of her waist. "I warned her if she kept up with her troubles to hide her pathetic insecurities and fraud appearance…she would get her just desserts in the end," he responded, the truth only being by half. He winked at her. "But let's put the insecurities aside for tonight and make this about the birthday girl."

 **So, in "The Boundaries of Friendship", Jonathan didn't notice the professor's advances and would not believe Bruce at first. It was also implied behind the professor's criticism of Jonathan's interest in phobias that he says his obsession stems from childhood trauma and will never help anyone, orders him to abandon his hopes of becoming a psychologist. Until Bruce was expelled and left him vulnerable, forced to give in to his professor's wishes to sleep with him so he could get his PhD earlier than anyone else. But in here, he is fully aware and is equally forced to go through with it, and Edward is helpless to stop it. If anyone is wondering why they didn't take the opportunity to kill Dr. Warner sooner, it is because they are still in the early stages of embracing their future Rogue identities, and Jonathan needs his doctoral degree that there is no other way - and he can't wait THAT long.**

 **The song he and Iris danced to on her birthday was "Cantara" by Lisa Gerrard.**


	9. Love, Losses and Lessons

**Now we're finally bringing Harley and Ivy in as supporting but otherwise important. :) The late Brittany Murphy (who died not long after Heath Ledger) was common in fanart-dom as Harley, so it should be obvious who plays the adorable harlequin. Pamela Isley is portrayed by Irish actress/singer Lisa Lambe, a member of my favorite group, Celtic Woman.**

 **I forgot to mention in the last chapter, in "The Boundaries of Friendship", Edward lost his mind when he found out Jonathan was in LOVE with Bruce and tried to kill him because of him being Batman and taking Jon's life away, even had the guts to tell Bruce how the Scarecrow felt for him. Idiotic move, if you ask me, even for a supposed genius like Ed. Tried not to make him and Iris too much like that, too.**

Chapter Eight

Love, Losses and Lessons

"Oh, God _noooooo_!" Harley wailed three days later during rec time that night. Her howls and cries roused the attention of not only Jonathan, but also Edward, Pamela and some of the others who crowded around her and one of them picked up the newspaper as the Plant Vixen herself wrapped her arms around the sobbing harlequin.

The one to pick up the paper was Arnold Vesker, Scarface hooting in spite of Harley's tears. "Well, would ya look at this, ya'll? Looks like your puddin' wasn't so lucky this time!" Ivy turned around and glared at him to shut his mouth, and the blonde only cried harder.

Jonathan found himself reading the main headline: CLOWN PRINCE OF CRIME REIGN ENDS

"'The Joker dies at the hands of the Batman'," he read aloud below the bold printed title, then frowned. How could this happen? The Batman did not kill, and he certainly could not kill the Clown Prince of Crime. Reading further, he found himself wanting to read more aloud when he looked up to see Pamela eyeing him venomously and warning him that the story would make it worse for Harley than it already was. He nodded and went to reading it himself, taking the paper from Arnold.

 _It appears that the reign of the fearsome Joker, also known as the Clown Prince of Crime, is at an end. Last night, the notorious clown was killed in what appeared to be an accident as the Batman tried to apprehend him, but the grappling hook from the wanted Bat was severed by gunshot from GCPD as police arrived at the scene, and the Joker fell to his death from ten stories high and the Batman disappeared into the night. The body was recovered and displayed from public eye, verbally described as "roadkill" to avoid photographic imagery taken._

Jonathan lowered the newspapers from his eyes and looked ahead, his mind numb; he barely noticed Edward taking the paper from him and reading himself. "Looks like the Bat and the cops both did what Harley could never do," he whispered to him. He had to agree. _She deserved better than that clown. Look at her and Red._

Seeing those two together was evident enough to tell him that it was more than friendship, if you asked him. It was always Ivy she ran to when her abusive boyfriend laid his hand on her or tossed her aside for any mistake she made. It might as well be embarrassing for anyone else to see two women in a...relationship, but Jonathan was used to such things. Edward, however, not so. "Jon...two girls? That's just me, but I don't know about same-sex..."

"Edward," he hissed. "Show some respect. That's two people who care for each other, regardless of the sex."

~o~

 _Her neck was to the point of bruised almost deep purple from his intense suctions and nibbles, her hips similar from the work of his hands, and her breasts were patterned erotically with faint red marks of teeth from his love bites. Her mouth watered as she beheld the sight of him in return as he drew back to admire his work on her: his lean, toned chest with the slight inner curving of his stomach and barely-there six-pack - the pattern of scars over that stomach and going over his back - the jutting hips and the fusing of the dark nest between them against her own as he molded himself with her. Thinking of that last bit made her clamp down on him harder, letting him know she wanted him. He moaned prettily and manly. "Tell me how badly you want me…"_

 _She had never experienced passion like this - the rough and burning kind, but somehow she enjoyed it because it was just as enjoyable as the soft and tender that had begun between them, progressed into something more. Some people said rough was not romantic, but this was beyond the romance that her sister had dreamily spoke about and got Jervis in the end. "Touch me more, Jonathan. Touch me now; stop keeping me waiting!"_

 _That was all it took as he leaned down and bit her neck, marking her as his, and she howled in pain and pleasure, bringing her hands - one to his head and wove through his luxuriant hair and the other to his back to scratch her nails and add yet more scars there - up and grasp for dear life as he began to pump her so hard she would have a hard time walking for a week, while adding a vigorous, mellow rhythm to the energy that bloomed more than the red rose or the blue iris…_

~o~

She'd fallen asleep at her own desk.

Or rather, waking up at her desk and soaking hot underneath, which made her very angry and embarrassed.

Iris' body snapped backwards, the leather chair protecting her and helping her regain her balance. She blamed Edward for this. He woke her in the middle of the night to tell her Jonathan _loved_ her when it could have waited during the day. Or did he want to give her a more...dramatic means of giving the news to her? Thought he could come between them because he was Jonathan's friend?

Today hadn't been well for her because of the lack of sleep, and now she'd fallen asleep. She looked up to see that the day was nearing its end, and Alice could phone her any minute now and ask her if she still felt like going shopping for more wedding stuff. She and Jervis had been engaged for a month now, and the wedding was in less than two months, ready to be held at their Grandmother Sylvia's mansion. The preparations had been made with haste, the theme already obvious from the start and from Jervis' favorite childhood classic.

How come she had to have a raw sexual dream in the middle of the day of all days?

And most of all, how could she talk to Jonathan about his feelings for her? It wasn't that she doubted him, but she wanted to hear it from HIM, not Edward. She wanted to say she loved him, too, but how could they when he was still a patient?

~o~

For a long time before Alice Pleasance discovered she was the half-blood-sister of Iris, before she found employment under Jervis at Wayne Enterprises and before she became engaged to him, she had been raised by a single mother who lusted for wealth and position and therefore sought relations with Marcus DeLaine long before his loss over HIV. Since then, after Iris had been established as the sole heir to the family corporation, Sophia Pleasance had been pressuring her only daughter to find a potential suitor who could ensure their survival.

High school was brutal for finding a boyfriend, but the perfect man was always hard to find, and college got worse. But then she met Billy by then, near the end of her school years while she was still just Jervis' assistant; she thought Billy was the one, but they had a cycle of issues that had been based off of his parents saying she was "too poor" as well as sneering at her being the daughter of a dead rich man's mistress. They said she was worthless, which Sophia blamed her daughter for, too.

But, according to Iris, it wasn't Alice's fault her mother was a gold-digging whore.

Then Jervis came along when she first got her job as a secretary in college. He was older than her by a decade, but he was so genuine and sweet to her, treating her different than Billy treated her. He had been her best friend during the ordeal with Billy - but she could have sworn she saw his eyes darken at one point when Billy proposed marriage to her, and something held her back from saying yes until Jervis came to her house one night and professed his feelings for her. He said he had loved her ever since the beginning but respected her decision, though insisted Billy wasn't the right man for her. That she should follow her heart and not have him because he was the man her mother wanted for her. She remembered feeling overwhelmed and speechless because she never thought he would ever admit he felt that way about her.

Never did she think she would end up feeling her heart thump a thousand times faster than it did after he left her afterwards, respecting whatever her wish was.

In the end, she knew where her heart truly belonged. After Iris inherited everything and managed to persuade DeLaine Towers to give Alice her rightful share as she WAS Marcus DeLaine's other daughter, Alice went back to school and quit her job; she and Jervis were officially together after she broke up with Billy for the final time. And now she was getting married to him.

Around her finger was a ring she'd never seen before that Jervis could not have picked anything better. It was a delicate filigree in a marquis-shape, centered with a square sapphire which was sided on either end with two yellow diamonds. It was more than anything that Billy would have given her, more than even the two rings she wore on her right hand that had been left to her from her father before he died, to only make up for the "lost times" they never had as father and daughter. On her forefinger was a captivating three rows of yellow gold and nine glittering diamonds; third finger boasted an ethereal moonstone on an enchanting yellow band that it could belong to a fairy.

Today she needed to shop for more wedding materials - the dress already done for, and now she was picking up her reception dress as well as the bridesmaids dresses. Iris was her maid of honor and helping her out.

However, her sister wasn't exactly entirely present despite wanting to be here. Iris seemed...distracted more than normal, answering shortly or giving an answer in an almost dead tone. She had been like this when she returned home, not bothering to change out of her teal silk blouse and black pants, kept her painful-to-wear-after-all-day heels on for the ordeal, and left her hair in its chignon style. She was troubled, indeed.

They actually had quite the journey looking for wedding dresses when Jervis had not even proposed yet at the time. Iris always somehow knew Jervis would, as she knew what men like him were like when they knew they found the one for them. It had taken two months in the making, beginning with blue dresses in a single day. The first had been a strapless aqua blue ballgown, the bodice an all-over dramatic floral design in which a dahlia dominated the entire surface, and skirt was sparkling tulle - however, Alice felt like she was going to prom again. The next one was too conservative for her; it was a beaded halter to add modernism to the class. The third and final did it for her in the blue gown department; the bodice might have had exposed boning and tones of sparkle, the skirt multi-textured with rosettes, but all these blue gowns weren't working out. She'd wanted something that was all her, unique and original enough to do _Alice in Wonderland_ justice.

Next they tried all white, returning to traditional. The first white was a fabulous A-line, the bodice fitted and sparkling on the bust, the rest of the organza skirt swirling softly, though it made the bride herself feel like she'd seen it before. Another white was extremely sweet and completely unique; its skirt was still ballgown tulle, dreamy and like she was floating on the clouds, though the bodice itself had a pattern like it was made out of candy. It made her feel like she was twelve again. And then the third and final white made her gear towards a direction of white and blue together, though not this one despite its elegant blossoms and crystals over the bodice.

Blue and white together it was, and her choice was the determination of when Jervis finally got down on his knees and asked her to marry him a couple days after she brought the dress home after a few more months in the making.

The dresses she picked for the maid of honor and the bridesmaids were all the same: asymmetrical ruching to flatter the figure, and the fabric was satin and a waterfall shade of blue that took her breath away. It didn't take away from her, the bride, as Iris constantly reminded her not to do, so she asked one more time. "What do you think?"

"It's perfect, not too lavish and not too simple. The maids shouldn't outshine the bride on her day."

She couldn't take it anymore. "Iris, what in heaven's name is wrong with you today? Didn't you even get any sleep, if that's it?"

Since they were in a little more private part of this section, Iris kept her tone down so it was between the sisters. "Alice, last night Edward Nygma came to visit me, and he told me that Jonathan..." She stopped herself there, lowering her eyes. It wasn't like her sister to be so timid either, but whatever the Riddler said, it really had Iris bothered.

"Iris, what did he say?"

"He said Jonathan had...feelings for me. Like you and Jervis."

Alice's fingers found their way to her eyes. Somehow she'd known something like this would happen, but Iris was not a romantic as she was. She was both surprised and not surprised at the same time, but how could she say the same for her sister? "I think," she said finally, "we should take this in the car instead of here."

So they bought her reception dress and the bridesmaids' and went for the SUV. Alice knew the whole story of how they met and the downhill events when he got fired for helping her against the bullies who assaulted her, how Iris always felt that forbidden attraction for him and somehow knew it from him, and how stronger it got while she worked for and alongside him at Arkham, and then the end of everything he had built for the two of them when the Batman came along. Then Edward Nygma came to the manor in the middle of the night and told her that the Scarecrow was in love with her all this time but was "afraid" to tell her himself.

"Honestly, how can you not think any time of the day about someone who protected you when you were a child?" Iris asked as she leaned back and looked at Alice who was behind the wheel, keeping them both in the parking lot until her story was finished. "I worship Jonathan as he worships me, and we have no secrets between us..." She trailed off. "Except for the man in his dream. He's the last key to getting Jonathan out of Arkham. A part of me feels like he..."

Alice turned her body around and faced her full-front. She and Iris had their ups and downs, and the former got the man of her dreams in the end - Iris needed that opportunity herself before it was lost. Jonathan needed it, too.

"He told me about his mother and grandmother, about being abandoned, abused, and a church full of crows as punishment. And he never talks about his…psychology professor at Gotham State before he, too, became a professor at the same university, which is also where we met. He's hiding something from me, but I don't want to force him to talk any more than I already got him to tell me about his dream."

She nodded half to herself and to the raven-haired woman. Jonathan needed to tell his greatest secret to help them both, even though she herself was not a psychiatrist. The longer you kept it in, the worse it got. Not to be cruel, but it was no wonder he remained in Arkham - because he kept it all bottled up besides the other information about his life.

~o~

Jonathan remembered gaping when Edward first brought in the book two days ago. He wouldn't even tell him how he got it, only that it would fix the little "issue you have with Iris and your fantasies", despite Jonathan's objections. The book had a warm honey brown hard cover with the title in gold and below an equal engraved image of a lotus flower.

 _Kama Sutra._

"Edward, what is this supposed to be?!"

"Well, obviously, it's not just any book for me to give to you. And this happened to be in Joan's collection, which surprised me when I first saw it and never thought she'd own anything like it. It is an ancient Indian text on human sexual behavior, _especially_ helping people to get… _better lovers,_ so that they can find _fulfillment in love._ And yes, I'm quoting on research perspective."

 _You spent_ how _long researching and immediately understanding human physical intimacy?_ The question was forgotten altogether when he opened the book. He was aghast - and slightly turned on - by what he had discovered in it. Of course he had heard of the Kama Sutra, now that he remembered; it overpowered every existing book on sexual acts, but he never considered even looking into it. Sex was never on his list - until he began having intimate thoughts about Iris. He was a man after all, and men had needs. Edward had said he'd looked at it for his times with Joan - no surprise there - and learned that Harley and Ivy had used it, but also her and Joker - now that was beyond more than his poor imagination could bear. He discovered at least a hundred and twenty different positions that aroused him while others disgusted him, and some he wasn't the least bit interested in. The illustrations in the one-hundred-and-seventy-six-page edition, bound in Japanese silk were of the traditional Indian art and beholding the various positions in graphic imagery and the details written clearly and vividly. Jonathan could feel his cheeks flushing at all this new stuff he saw for the first time in his life without any more peril.

Okay, so he'd read the whole thing, his mind taking in every detail, and by the time he was done, he put it down and looked away in shame, turning away to bury his face in the pillows. And then Eddie ruined the moment by laughing.

"You're embarrassed," he noted. "Well, I understand where this is coming from, but you gotta admit it, this is a good tool for you and Iris."

Jonathan lifted his head from the pillow and scowled. "No offense, but I really don't want to talk about this. And I've especially heard enough of your sex life with Dr. Leland, and quite frankly, hearing about the two next door has been more than I could bear."

Edward just laughed again and walked over to sit at the foot of the bed and picked up the now-closed book. "Well, you know Joan favored not only up against the wall, but she also favors top position on the floor, and a couple other things. One is the frog position, where I squat my legs for her to get on my lap, her legs also over mine, and she holds onto my shoulders," he added with a wink. "Luckily, I get the opportunity to put my tongue to use on her breasts. But because of this position, instead of thrusting, I prefer to rock in and out gently to make it easier, and Joan squeezes her own muscles, and when my thigh muscles can't take anymore, I lay backwards and let her bounce on top.

"Another is the ballerina - also known as 'yawning', when she lies on her back and her legs are lifted and spread as wide as they can go. Do the math and the penetration is profound. This is my favorite because it makes _me_ the dominant male." Eddie sniggered evilly. "I would recommend this for yourself because this makes us in charge -"

"Okay, okay!" Jonathan held up a hand for him to stop. "This is more than I need to know from you."

Eddie held both his hands up placatingly. "Hey, at least you're not hearing this from the poor little widowed harlequin who just loved to talk about the various ones with her late puddin' - now with Pamela, which gives me nightmares. The point is, Jon, if you're gonna have a great sex life, at least learn the do's and all the don'ts. But there are certain things that us guys may or may not like doing."

That was the important thing Jonathan knew about from experience. "Well, you and I both know us straight guys don't like anything like a vibrator shoved up our -"

"Ah, ah, ah, that is where you are only half true. Before Iris woke up and saw me doing my business, I had cut my ass hair for Joan to bring what you mentioned to do just that, and I _love_ the feel of the sharp vibrations up my a -"

"Okay, _that_ is another thing more than I need to know. What do girls hate, first of all?"

Eddie put a finger under his chin as if in deep thought. "Well, Joan told me double and triple penetration, but _that_ is only if there is another guy involved. And some women don't like rough sex. _Some_ , not all."

He turned to a page and pointed to an illustration where a guy took control over his lady partner, the explicit details of both anatomies and all. "Constant clitoral contact means a _very_ happy lady!" he declared with a flourish of his hand. "This is one perfect way to make your girl happy, alright. Back arched, legs spread, and bottom part always lifted every now and then. Great for making eye contact during the orgasm," Eddie said happily. "Not only YOU enjoying being inside of her, but she enjoys it more than you."

 **The actual Kama Sutra described as having "illustrations in the one-hundred-and-seventy-six-page edition, bound in Japanese silk were of the traditional Indian art and beholding the various positions in graphic imagery and the details written clearly and vividly" is very hard to find anywhere else, but other books have the positions and keeping up its tradition.**

 **Unlike other incarnations and stories, Jervis is a good guy and does NOT become Mad Hatter. :) I have no idea if anyone else has done this, too.**

 **The latest Kama Sutra position Edward mentioned at the end - I don't remember the name of it, to be honest. XD**


	10. Coming Out Little at a Time

**The song "White Liar" by Miranda Lambert is one of my favorite songs if not related to this story or this new chapter, but a line in it goes "truth comes out a little at a time" which became the chapter title and conveys what goes on in here now.**

Chapter Nine

Coming Out Little at a Time

 _6 years ago..._

She awoke in the bedroom that had been her dead mother's, now hers. A month had passed since Maria was found murdered in this house. Iris did not have it in her to sell anything that was left to her. But a lot of Maria's old clothes and accessories she pawned off and gave to others who needed them. And today she would start her new job at Arkham Asylum, where she would have the best of luck with the mentally unstable. She had the upmost confidence they might confide in her more than any of their doctors given to them, not that she expected all of them to look up to her. Nothing was ever free from imperfection.

It was also the same place she learned where _he_ was now.

She had not seen Professor Crane - Dr. Crane, now that he was at the insane asylum as one of its primary physicians - since he was fired and sent away from her, forbidden to ever come near Gotham University again, but that didn't mean he couldn't keep in touch with her. No one, not even Dr. Long, found out that he remained in contact with her via phone and letters, except Alice. Crane had been the one to recommend her to Arkham, even forwarded the application for her. He had saved her life and helped her. All she could think about was being near him, not for the sake of her career but for her own happiness. She was a woman now, ready to make her own decisions, and she knew it.

She had donned a casual professional garb - a form-hugging teal turtleneck sweater paired with a polished black pencil skirt and heeled boots reaching her knees - and chose to go for a newer updo for work that took days to practice over the last month. Her jewelry was kept to a minimum with the diamond-and-pearl studs in her ears, Grandma Sylvia's ring around her middle finger...and finally her opal pendant from her beloved college professor. Not Dr. Johannes who had taken over last year, but the one who saved her life and opened her mind to new wonders. The one who was cast out like Lucifer was cast out - all for his strong love for God.

The entire drive to the Narrows did nothing to her nerves. She wasn't worried in the slightest; Dr. Iris DeLaine long ago gave up any worries.

Arkham was described as decrepit, but upon coming into the main lobby, it was worn away, but it was also clean and white. It just lacked proper care. There were visitors waiting to be received, some doctors in white lab coats coming around as well as nurses and orderlies in white. People were known to get stressed at Arkham, from what she was told, but who wasn't stressed out amongst staff at any hospital or big corporation in the world? Not that she ever would be; she was sure of it. She was prepared to face competition, but the Empress handled anyone who got in her path.

"Hello, I'm Iris DeLaine," she said to the pretty redhead woman at the receptionist's desk, who looked up from her computer and smiled most sweetly at her.

"Oh, Dr. DeLaine! I must say, you're younger-looking than I thought you'd be."

She ought to have expected it, but she was the youngest doctor in existence, right after Jonathan Crane, the man who recommended her, which the redhead did not expect. Iris gave her a pointed look which she did not seem to notice. "Well, there's a first time for everything," she said suavely. "Like one of your own already here who recommended me for the job?"

"Oh, yes. Dr. Crane." The girl, whose name was Barb according to the tag on her blouse collar, gave a twitching grin. "He's one of the youngest doctors here, and it seems you'll be topping him. I heard him talking to Dr. Leland and a few others about you, how you used to be his student before he left the university and about your credentials. He's very...fond of you, Doctor. Will it be nice to be working alongside him instead of under him now that you are no longer professor and student?"

Now it sounded like she was mocking Iris, which made her angry. But she bit her tongue and nodded without a word. "Indeed," she said after a moment of pause, and then another voice surprised her altogether.

"Well, Dr. DeLaine. You're early."

She spun around to her side and saw _him_ standing there, along with another doctor, a young black woman of about his age and in a lavender blouse with a gray suit jacket and skirt, very lovely. Her ID clipped to her lab coat read "J. Leland, PhD". And she was smiling, welcoming her, but it was the wonderful, powerful young man standing there that took Iris' breath away most of all. The face she wanted to see ever since before arrival.

Iris' vivid sapphire eyes locked with icy blue glacier ones in return.

Behind silver rectangular glasses were those piercing eyes which she stared into, his black raven hair parted down the middle as she remembered and softly curled behind his head. He was dressed in a black suit with a charcoal gray tie and a light blue shirt matching his eyes. She had not seen him in over a year...and he was captivating as she remembered. Her eyes then fell to his own ID badge: "J. Crane, PhD".

Something else inside her wondered how he managed to get his position here at Arkham, but she never asked him, nor did it occur until now. Not that it mattered now. All that mattered was that she was by his side again and she was ready to make him proud again.

"Joan Leland, Doctor," the woman said, extending her hand which she took.

"Iris DeLaine. I'd love to skip formalities, if you appreciate it."

The other woman laughed heartily. "Of course, Iris. It makes it that much more pleasant. Jonathan, should I leave you two alone to get to work now? Dr. Arkham requested a meeting with me and Mr. Garfield. His trial is coming up next week, and its likely he will be joining us here."

Crane looked her way and smirked to one corner of his mouth. "Highly likely, indeed, Joan. I'm ready if the judge calls me in." He returned his attention back to her. "Are you ready for your first case with me, Iris? Your first in court."

She loved a challenge when she faced the corrupt judge, but right now, she wanted to prepare for this Mr. Garfield's case and study him - as well as reconnect with this man in front of her. She'd missed him terribly.

"Iris." He breathed her name as soon as they were alone in his office, in which hers was right next door to him. Their surroundings were modern and sleek, black and white with a vast collection of knowledge on the walls.

She threw her arms around him for a hug, burying her face into his shoulder. "I've missed you," she whispered back.

He pulled back to look her over once more. "You've grown," he noted. "You're even more beautiful than I remember you. You've become a...fine woman, Iris DeLaine."

"I came to where you got me," she told him with a grin. "I'm permanently finished with Dr. Long and GSU…and Maria." She'd figured he'd read the stories of Maria DeLaine's death in the papers, or perhaps GCC on the news. Either way, he must have gotten the word of it. He gave her a knowing look.

"You did exactly what I always knew you would. And I'm very proud of you." He brought his hand to her face, caressing her cheek. Warmth flooded through her face, from the warmth of his hand and her own. "And now here we are again…and we have much to do."

~o~

 _She was wearing a smooth black satin dress that stopped at her ankles when she approached the bed and saw the pale figure in the teal silk sheets. His back was smooth and would have been one hundred percent if not for the various patterns of scars over the surface of his pallid complexion. His smooth, firm backside was covered with the sheets that it irritated her because he was unclothed underneath, but she wanted to see him. However, to go straight for it was never wise, so as she approached the bed, she began to formulate a plan to get him riled up._

 _She climbed onto the bed, on her knees, and reached for him, turning him over gently, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his arm, but as soon as he lay on his back and looked up at her, smiling...the face was not the one she was looking to see. This face she did not recognize at all._

 _He was an older man, on_ his _body. The face wasn't bad-looking, but it chilled her to the bone. The eyes were a venomous shade of green, like her late mother's. His hair was dark, like Jonathan's, but in a fringe over one eye and thin to the scalp. And his smile was cruel and sardonic - his voice was very unpleasant to the senses, soft and lethal._

"You really think he'll have you so easily after I had my good times with him?"

~o~

She jumped up in bed, crying out in horror at the same time _Into the Light_ was playing. Never mind her bare breasts exposed, she was screaming internally as she did before. This was it; enough was enough.

The man in her dream, his face on Jonathan's body...could _this_ be the man Jonathan dreamed about?

And then her memory bolted when she recalled what Jonathan had told her, all those years ago, after Mina Rosenberg and her pack assaulted her and he held her by the fire...about his former college professor who was said to have retired not long before he took his place:

 _"My friend, and housemate, tried to protect me from him, but it ended in vain. You do not want to know the details - not even a brilliant young mind like yours can even comprehend what I endured at_ his _hands."_

Iris doubled over in the bathroom, releasing the contents into the toilet as her mind swam in a whirlpool of colors, the swirls blinding her senses, and she collapsed before the receptacle on her knees, the ground cold beneath her skin as everything her mind had absorbed and tried to control overtook all reason and ignored how Jonathan might feel, because something had to be done if she wanted to help him rid of his demons once and for all.

After going through her bath routine and a rush to the closet - both times without grabbing her robe - she dressed herself up in a blue satin blouse that accentuated her torso and bust in a V-neckline with the black pencil skirt, and black pumps. This time she let her hair run wild and free and paired her pendant and ring this time with a pair of Titanic-inspired sapphire earrings; these were the only sapphire studs she owned, in fact. She bolted out of the room with her purse in hand, ready to get this over with and now.

~o~

 _14 years ago..._

"Edward, where were you?"

Jon was at his desk studying, textbook open, when he came back. His mind was in too much turmoil because he had to be forced to tell his friend this; he was supposed to keep him safe, but now he would be forced to stand by for the next four or five years and let Jon become prey to that monster who knew the truth about Edward's father's demise.

Another dirty secret he never told Jon and had no idea how to now.

"Ed?" Jonathan repeated when he watched the other man sit down on the foot of his bed numbly, staring at the floor. He heard his own heartbeat pick up its pace. "Damn it, would you answer me?!"

Edward's head jerked up. "Jon, don't yell at me. Tonight wasn't good as it was, and you won't like it when I tell you that I was at Dr. Warner's house."

Blue eyes widened behind the glasses, and the lips parted a little in a soft gape. "Edward..." Jon said slowly after a lengthy pause. His voice was low, demanding and suspicious. "...what were you doing over there?"

"I was looking for proof behind his eyes on you, but I wasn't careful no matter how much I wanted to be," he answered bitterly. "Now we both paid for it. He has leverage on me so I can give him what he wants - and we both know WHO that is."

"Me." Jon's voice was soft, barely audible...and helpless. Despaired. Because his own future as well as Edward's was at stake.

"That's not all." Edward swallowed. "I never told you this...about my father..."

~o~

 _Today_

"Jon, this has gone on long enough."

"And for the last time, Edward," he snapped, "I don't know how or when. Now's not the time because we're not you and Joan where you can slip off and bang in every room you can think of. And don't presume to think you can force me to tell her who is in -"

"You never FORGOT what happened in college!" Edward shouted as he stood up from his side of the cell and over Jonathan who remained laying on his side, facing the wall and refusing to look at him. "That man would have ruined our lives, and not a day goes by that I don't hate myself for letting him get away with what! It's the Bat I hate most of all for putting us both in here, but it was Warner who started it all for the both of us!"

Jonathan finally turned around and lay on his back, looking up at him furiously. "Drop it, Edward," he warned, his temper snapping when his friend would not let it slip.

"Jonathan Crane, you got to stop denying you love Iris, and you GOT to tell her about Warner! Because the longer you keep this to yourself and between us only -"

"That will be my turn to have now, Edward. I'll take it from here."

"Iris!" Jonathan sat up and looked at the doorway, horrified. She looked stunning in blue and black, but her face was another matter. She was firm and emotionless, not letting this slip past her as Edward had not. But Ed had done enough already; it was her turn. Jonathan himself felt defeated. His darkest secrets of all was coming to the surface because she pieced it together...and now he knew Edward had played a part in slipping to her that Jonathan might be in love with her.

He wanted to say yes, but his best friend had no right to get in the middle of all of this. This was between _him_ and her alone! But it was too late to turn back now. His fate was about to be sealed. "Come on, Jonathan," Iris said softly, helping him stand. Her heels clicked softly as she led him, unescorted by orderlies, down the hallways until they reached her office where it would just be the two of them. "I think it's time now. But this has nothing to do with Eddie..."

His head snapped up, and he glared at her. "Iris, it has everything to do with Eddie!" he rapped, pulling his hand from her soft grip, stalking over to the chair in front of her desk and plopping down in it like a child. "He interfered long enough!"

"And for good reason!" she returned, standing in front of him. "You're not making this any easier on either of us! Why don't you start by telling me who the man in your dream is, because last night I saw his face myself with the both of us involved!"

Jonathan stopped himself and stared at her in shock, shifting as far as he could go. She - Iris had a _dream_? How did she even know it was _Warner_? "Did he say who he was?" he asked carefully. She shook her head, raven curls swishing side to side and her hands on her hips.

"Well, not exactly, but here's what he said loud and clear that gave me enough of what I know: 'You really think he'll have you so easily after I had my good times with him?' He certainly implied what I thought he did. You never once told me about your old professor. Dr. Victor Warner. I WILL say his name for the sake of it. Now, tell me about him, Jonathan." Her eyes were hard and her jaw clenched, bearing down on him intently. Burning into his very soul. Jonathan lowered his eyes.

"When Edward and I were roommates in college, we had three classes together, as he told you: psych, chemistry and pathology. It wasn't easy in the beginning for either of us until we revealed each other's scars. I don't remember anytime having someone like him in my life..."

She interrupted him softly. "Jonathan, I know that, but what about Warner?"

He sighed; he knew she was going to ask him to cut right to the point. "Before I learned I would be in his class, and before I learned I would share it with Edward Nygma of all people, I admired Dr. Victor Warner, a renowned doctor of psychology who had a teaching position at Gotham State University...but I ended up in that much deeper and didn't know until it was too late. I let myself be caught in a web of gluttony and sin. And there was nothing Edward and I could do about it." He lowered his head as the memories came back with full-force that he voiced to her in the process: those looks Warner gave him, the few times he brazenly tried to kiss him and touch him, Edward trying to be the hero and break into his house only to get blackmailed, their futures in jeopardy if they thought they could beat the old man...

"For the next four, almost five years, I had no choice but to..." He couldn't finish it, so she did.

"He made you share his bed."

The force of his shame returned that he fell out of the chair, wracked with trying to keep the cries in. He hadn't cried since he was a child, and he wouldn't now. But he could not stop the words from pouring from his mouth. He wasn't even sure if he was aware of what he was saying anymore.

"I'm sorry, Iris! I'm so sorry; please, forgive me! I had no choice, and I needed what I came so far for! I had enough abuse to last a lifetime, and I wanted to live when others tried to deprive me of it! I had nothing and no one if I lost everything! All those nights for over four years in bed with that monster, humiliated and facedown, on my knees - I can go on! But I don't WANT to remember! I want to forget so much, but I CAN'T! I still dream about him sometimes, how I think he's right that I am a monster and threw it all away, but he's _wrong!_ I hate him as much as I hate my grandmother, my mother who abandoned me, the other children at school, and the Batman! Here I am in this place, reliving everything and rotting away...!"

Hands grasped his face and forced him to look into pale sapphire eyes cold and determined, fiery and crystalline at the same time. "Jonathan...listen to me. You do not disgust me, do you hear? You can't let him win; he is not here anymore. Understand? I'm here to help you put all of that behind you, take you away from this place and help you regain all you lost. Those people before him are dead and rotting in the ground, and the Batman is no better than anyone in this place or even at Blackgate. You're stronger than you were told, and you know it. You taught me that a long time ago, _Professor_ ," she said passionately and heatedly. "And that is why I _love_ you more than anything else. I love you, I'm not afraid to say it, and I know you do love me, too."

 **Whoo! (wipes forehead and tears from eyes) Jonathan pouring everything out into the open did a number on me. In "The Boundaries of Friendship", the actual sex scene between him and Dr. Bramowitz was in detail, slashy, and intriguing at the same time. It even show WHAT Scarecrow did in revenge in the end. ;D Bramowitz got what he deserved. That whole scene and chapter of Jonathan telling Bruce his story in Arkham was the foundation from the beginning that made me turn it into Jonathan and Vytina's Iris. I convinced her to take a look at it for herself, and she told me she hadn't been on Livejournal in awhile, but it pleased her to know it. :)**

 **Anyhoo, brave little Iris told Jonny boy her feelings. Let's see his response in the next chapter.**

 **A little later we will see what Jonathan did to Dr. Warner to get his revenge in the end. Scarecrow comes out then, too. ;D**

 **I could have probably done the whole danger with Dr. Warner from the start at the beginning of senior year for the boys, but the start of freshman year like in "Boundaries of Friendship" (that was actually the start of the second semester of freshman year for both Bruce and Jonathan), but a few months into the first year seemed more logical, if anyone agrees. I don't see anytime in sophomore or junior year, and no idea how it'd have been possible to happen then.**


	11. Blood Baths, Revenge and Meetings

Chapter Ten

Blood Baths, Revenge and Meetings

She could not believe - or maybe she did - that she had finally let it out, never mind Edward had been the one who started it, but she would have to thank him another time for doing it. She had heard every word he was saying to Jonathan even before she came in, both men not even hearing her, and the decision was made. She would take it from there, and she was glad that she had.

To know more about Dr. Victor Warner made the bile in her rise even worse than his grandmother and runaway mother did. Even more than the church of crows behind the family estate, even more than the bruises, broken bones and blood from his classmates his entire life...and even more than when he was thrown in here and his life ruined. Iris decided she hated the old man more than anything else, even more than Dr. Long.

And now Jonathan was debasing himself, crying and telling her he did not deserve her, that she should be sick of him because she was still a virgin and he was not; she was not in any sense old-fashioned, but she did save herself for him only. And that did not change, nor did anything about how she felt for him change. At this point, she wanted him to be that man who protected her from the abuse at the hands of Mina Rosenberg and the others, helped her get to here at Arkham and everything she had. She owed him this much because she LOVED him. _That's all I'll thank you for, Eddie._ She could picture him smugly smiling that his persistence and interference paid off.

Jonathan, however, was the opposite of happy.

"You...love me?"

His voice was lower than she expected, but how else could he be after just confessing the lingering filth in his body from someone else he hated most in the world? Someone who should have helped him as it had been her and him? "Yes," she breathed. "Do you love me, too?"

Iris hadn't expected him to respond right away, but she was irritated all the same. "I still say damn Edward for this," he hissed, turning his face away only to be forced back by her hand on his cheek.

"So did I. But I'm happy he knocked the sense in because we both have run away from it long enough, Jonathan." Her hand dropped back to its original place. "I've felt this for you ever since we first met, shouldn't that be enough? I'm tired of keeping this in. Tell me now, do you love me, too?" she repeated, taking both his hands in hers, on either side of them, searching his face and seeing nothing - but his eyes said another story altogether.

"Yes."

She laughed and leaned up to kiss him for the first time. That was all she ever needed to know, no further explanation.

This kiss was filled with so much fire, furious and broken out after kept in for so long, raging and destroying everything in its path. Her hands grasped his shoulders and held on for dear life as his own wrapped around her waist to hold her equally, afraid of letting her go. His tongue broke through and her teeth, prying them open to find her tongue, too, wrapping around and mating; the taste was sheer delicious that she moaned desperately against his mouth. This was nothing in her dreams; this was really happening...but they had to stop.

They could not go that far, not in her own office like Joan and Edward. She was too professional for that, and he knew proper respect for the asylum administrator as he had been not long ago. "We should...stop this," he panted, looking back up at her. His lips were swollen as she felt hers was, darker pink, and his cheeks matching as hers. They were both flushed with the intensity of their first kiss. It was not the mental one a young girl built up until her day came for her Prince Charming, but Jonathan Crane was too dignified to be called a literary hero. He was a real man and would be treated as such, and Iris DeLaine was no princess waiting for him to save her. She never needed saving, really. In her case, years of careful planning and obstacles were all it was. As it had been with him.

And that was why they were both perfect together, and they both knew it, looking into each other's eyes and reading each other's thoughts.

"Was that too much?" Iris asked as soon as her heart slowed down.

He chuckled. "Not as I expected. I would want more, but this is neither the place or time."

"I agree. We both know what comes first."

~o~

 _10 years ago..._

Jonathan was naked as he stood before the mirror in the bathroom he shared with Edward, loathing the sight without a doubt.

He had allowed this body to be taken four years ago; he had graduated last week the same time as Edward, but they were both still living near the campus because Jonathan had been offered a teaching position...but one man stood in the way. He was the nightmare in their lives long enough that he "helped" them but needed to go now.

"Jon?"

"Go away!" he yelled, hating his current state and not wanting to deal with Edward right now. He looked down and reached up to tug his hair in frustration when his roommate refused.

"No, Jon, I won't leave you alone. It's him, and I know it. The four years went by, and now you got to put an end to this..."

He snapped inside, no longer caring about his nudity and threw the door open, glaring at the other bespectacled man. Edward's eyes briefly ran over him before moving them back up to meet Jonathan's eyes, face flushed with both embarrassment and anger. This was pretty much how their friendship had been over the last few years: anger and binding by dark pasts, trapped in the place that was supposed to give them freedom to move on - the doing of Victor Warner, none other - and Jonathan's body and mind hurt just as equal. The bruises had healed outside but not inside.

"I will do it, Ed," he said softly, coldly, "but you constantly nagging me about it is not making it easier."

"The reason we stayed here another week," Edward argued, "was because of the teaching position which you have not gotten yet because of HIM. He's the cause of all of this that he has to go, like I did to my father and you did to your grandmother. I've had enough blood on my hands as it is, but I know it in you that you're not afraid."

Jonathan had his back turned to him, allowing a small smile to form now, and it remained when he turned back around to Edward. A dark energy overtook him that it didn't seem to scare his friend. **"You're right, Edward,"** he said, but it wasn't him. **"Warner will get what he deserves, and I know just how to do it that will not point to either of us. As a matter of fact..."** Still naked, he walked over to his side of the room and knelt down on the other side of the bed, pulling out the silver case of everything to the one thing that was his life. **"...I never cared to show you until now, my friend. It's to me what your riddles and the depths of the body are to you."**

He grinned when Edward paled and looked down at what he showed, turning the case around to show him the jars and syringes of the clear yellow fear toxin. "Okay, so it's your little secret weapon," he stammered nervously, "but before you show me how it works, can you please put some clothes on, Jon?"

Later on, at eight PM, they were both at Victor Warner's house, with Edward beside him as he looked down with Jonathan in amazement at the writhing, screaming man in his own bed, naked and clawing at himself, drawing blood at unseen demons. The both of them had been unable to find out what scared the professor, but that was alright in Scarecrow's book. All that mattered was that his rapist was in his own home and violated in his own mind. This was revenge sweet enough, and his friend beside him was savoring it beside him.

"One last thing I did for all three of us," Edward said. "A call to the cops that the renowned Dr. Victor Warner has apparently been screaming mad in his own house, by an anonymous caller and no fingerprints left." He held up both of his gloved hands and wiggled his fingers happily, both men laughing before returning to reality that the police were on their way.

~o~

 _Today_

It was official, not that she didn't plan this at all: she would draw up the final arrangements next month and get Jonathan out of Arkham for good. Once that was done, she would work out the rest of the details with him and no one else was looking.

Right now she needed some relief and a hot, steamy bath before bed, as usual. She had switched into a black tank and shorts after leaving her costume, following the latest of the Empress' work; this one had been a common thug trying to mug a girl, so she did what the Batman was unable to do tonight. While she ran the water and closed the door to let the steam fill the room while she walked over to the stereo to play the song of choice. Another of Eden's Bridge's work, but this was morose and even though it was one of the perfect dance choices, it reminded her so much of when Jonathan was exiled from Gotham State.

 _I have lost my true and only love_

 _To the waves and far away_

 _To the listless sea, the cloudy skies_

 _To a new and distant day_

 _Though I know you must go_

 _It is hard for me and so_

 _In the eventide I cry_

 _And I hope that you will think of me_

 _The one you left behind_

Iris was a trained dancer - dancing had always been a hobby of hers, and she would always have Jonathan as her partner and no one else, from dances at the university and the charity balls and fundraisers. Whenever they would join hands and twirl like flower petals and leaves in the wind, it was always just the two of them and no one else, not even acknowledging the others around them.

 _Under different skies you'll do His work_

 _Under different stars you'll stay_

 _I pray that when your work is done_

 _That He'll send you home someday_

 _Every thought, every breath_

 _Carries aching emptiness_

 _For your loving arms I sigh_

 _And I pray that you will think of me_

 _The one you left behind_

She shrieked as she slipped on the smooth marble floor and landed right where she was. Pain shot through her worse than glass piercing her flesh and severing the arteries and veins beneath. She sat where she was for a moment, and for that moment, the music seemed to drown out as she beheld the source of her slip-up.

 _Water was flooding into her room_.

She frowned as she stood up, grabbing the foot of the bed to balance herself and keep herself from falling again. The water - where the hell was it coming from? - was beginning to soak her carpet, too, and her anger flared up. How the hell could she have been so careless? She would have to call the maid to clean this up, or perhaps herself and lose more hours of sleep.

And then she saw where it was coming from…the _bathroom_.

Iris frowned again as she began to approach the closed door. It couldn't have been that long that it was beginning to flood. What was going on?

When she opened the door, she saw that the black-and-sand marble floor was glossy with water pouring from the overflowing tub - before her vision was clouded, and the room was so steamy that she could barely see the mirrors, the pillars, or anything anymore…until it cleared away for her to see that things had changed. The water had changed color - to a very bold red to the point of making it look like… _blood._ There was _blood_ in her bathroom. She was close to screaming when she followed the trail to finally spotting the person sitting in the tub.

She closed her eyes for a second, wanting to blink herself awake in the hopes of all of this being a bad dream, but the person was still there, and more bloody water was flowing past her and marring her feet with its stains. The man - she guessed it was a man by the short length of the jet black hair - had his back facing her, and he was running his hands through his hair, weeping heavily and not at all like a man, and he had been clutching his head as if he was suffering, and Iris could see that he was. His back was patterned with numerous opening scars gushing torrents of blood down his back and into the water; each breath he took in caused the rivers of red to suck back in only to let it out when he exhaled. There was only one person she could think of with a collage of scars in that pattern…

Suddenly, before she could think further, the man whipped his head around, and this time she _did_ scream. His face was a network of fingernail scratches that allowed more blood currents to spill into the bathwater, his porcelain flesh barely even clear anymore from the self-marring, and his glacier blue eyes bloodshot and wild like an animal she couldn't identify. The face itself was barely identifiable to anyone anymore from the mutilation. Even worse was when he opened his mouth and showed pink-stained teeth as he howled one word:

 _"NEVERMORE!"_

Iris turned to run when she found herself facing the same face, this time seeing his nude, ravaged body full-front. She screamed again and fell backwards onto the ground, landing _straight onto the blood-flooded floor…_

But when she looked back up and around, she was alone once more.

Had she imagined it all? Now she no longer felt the blood water around her, and there was no flooding - and there most certainly was no undead, visceral, walking corpse in her room. And now the song was finishing.

 _I would travel over water_

 _I would race the river to the sea_

 _I would give my home, my everything_

 _Just to have you here with me_

 _But my heart is alive_

 _To the knowledge of His timing_

 _And so 'tis here I'll stay_

' _Til He sends you home to me again_

 _To the one you left behind_

Iris hissed as she picked herself up. What the hell was wrong with her? First good and sexy dreams, and now vivid, nightmarish hallucinations about a walking zombie Jonathan. What was next? Were these dreams and visions telling her something? Or was she going crazy and likely to end up in her own asylum, like Jonathan had?

~o~

 _7 years ago..._

Once every two weeks it would be Iris to go out and grasp the groceries for Alice and herself, but this time took longer than she expected because tonight was packed in every line it didn't matter which one she took. All she wanted to do now was to get home to her roommate and half-sister she recently found out about from a friend of hers at the hospital.

Gotham was dangerous at night, but she liked the danger in the streets given her experiences. She was armed nowadays after her attack before her fifteenth birthday less than a year ago - an attack which led to retribution which cost her beloved teacher's position and life...but most of all her. A part of her felt they should have been killed when she and Professor Crane had the chance...

She had the freezing of her spine which told her she was being followed in the streets; she damned herself for not calling a cab or buying a car sooner, because she had the money for herself and Alice. Too late now. Turning her head halfway, Iris saw the man behind her. He appeared to be a normal average guy, but she would not be fooled. He was out for whatever he wanted from her. Either he would shoot her dead first and take her money afterwards, or demand she give it up and then kill her - or was it something worse that she knew what it was but would NOT repeat? Either way, Iris reached into the pocket of her coat and felt for her handgun...

"Stay right there, bastard," she snarled, turning around and pointing it at him. Her finger was on the trigger, the safety off.

He froze there, eyes wide with surprise, before it contorted into an ugly sneer as he lunged for her with a knife in hand, gleaming sterling despite the night. Iris quickly turned and ran for her life; she had it in her to keep the groceries in one arm and try to make way for the nearest public street there was - only for a hand to grab her by her coat and pin her to the brick wall, the bags of groceries falling to the ground forgotten, but her hold on her pistol was intact.

"Now, now, pretty, you shouldn't have set me off. I wasn't even going to bother you until you pulled that gun out -"

The sound of a gunshot rang through both of their ears, and he never finished his sentence. He was bleeding and fell dead before her, the bullet shooting him in the stomach and whatever important organs. Iris stared down at him, shocked at what she did but also relieved. She had killed a man - she _killed_ him! But she had also defended herself...

"You saved your own life and he could have killed you himself."

Iris gasped sharply as she looked up and saw the man in black in front of her. Both hands on her gun now, she raised it up at him, prepared to shoot him, too, if he was trouble like the one dead at her feet. The mysterious man chuckled and stepped more clearly into what little light there was. He was very handsome and middle-aged, his beard and mustache of Asian roots graying. "Who are you?" she demanded. "And are you going to phone the authorities since I killed him?"

The man laughed and shook his head. "My dear, no, I will not presume to contact the corrupt authorities all because you protected yourself as well as stopped this one from committing what he would have repeated to another like you. You're not a menace."

Iris huffed and put the safety back on her weapon, putting it back into her coat and walking away to pick up her dropped bags. "Well, should I say thank you for the approval, whoever you are? The permission to kill an armed man who tried to do the same to a hard-working woman coming home from an innocent act of picking up food?" she asked sarcastically.

"My name is Henri Ducard, young lady. I'm impressed with your stamina, limited as it was. I was passing through Gotham these last few weeks when I noticed you and immediately saw how you possessed...unique qualities."

She snorted. Who did this Ducard fellow think she was? Was he trying to hire her for street work or something? "Listen, Mr. Ducard, if you're trying to sell me on the streets -" He interrupted her with a light laugh; they were now crossing the street together for a safer area.

"My dear, what kind of man do you think I am? What I am trying to tell you is that you've been marked by injustice, whether it was parental or societal - perhaps both. Either way, you're lost and you need some guidance. I can help you with that, Miss...?"

"DeLaine. Iris DeLaine." As the words sunk in, Iris was a little shocked at how well he seemed to know her even though they never met. "Are you telling me I need a path because life was cruel to me?"

"Well, whatever has wronged you, yes. See, I belong to and lead a very secret, international society you must not breathe a word of - but I can give you the choice to join or not. If not, then you will have an independent life that I can welcome through the doors at any time. Miss DeLaine, if you take my advice, then you can devote yourself to your ideals - and become something else entirely that you never thought you would."

 **Early on we saw Ra's there for her when her mother was killed, and it's mentioned they met not long after Professor Crane was fired, but never explored. I felt now was the time to see that.**

 **The nightmare sequence Iris has was inspired by a vision Cate Blanchett's character has of Katie Holmes' corpse in her own house in "The Gift".**

 **Since it's obvious by now I love Eden's Bridge so much, "The One You Left Behind" reminded me of Jonathan and Iris in Vytina's stories the moment I started listening to it a couple years ago.**

 **Revenge is always a dish served hot and sweet - in the case of Jonathan and Edward over their monstrous professor. :D You should see what Jon did to Dr. Bramowitz in the other story: he gassed the professor after having forced sex with him not long after graduation, then cut off two of his fingers like, as my boyfriend said, a stone-cold BADASS.**


	12. Gray Areas

**I one hundred percent apologize for keeping everyone waiting so long. I had just completed "Bound to the Vorta", and I had trouble figuring out HOW to continue this story, but now I am back on track. :) I'll be beginning a new Deep Space 9 story soon, but not until I continue this one for a few more chapters to come. The wait might have been worth it.**

 **I thought people should know about the timeline jumps, if anyone is ever confused. I have difficulty explaining this, but when I read "The Boundaries of Friendship", I understood the way it was perfectly that I decided to do the same, as I have done in a couple other fics of mine. If it's confusing to anyone, you all should keep in mind the year is 2016 currently for present events and go back to do the math with mentioned past events like "10 years ago" or "7 years ago" like in the last chapter, and so forth with previous ones. There might not be much more in the future, but in here - we get to see a little expansion of Iris and Ra's. :)**

Chapter Eleven

Gray Areas

"Well, now that you know how the lady feels for you, Jon, what's your next move?" Edward asked as he sat down beside him at lunch time, with Harley and Ivy across from them and grinning like schoolgirls.

Jonathan glared first at him and then at the girls. "I don't see how my newfound feelings are your business, either of you."

Pamela scoffed and waved her hand. "It's our business because Iris is our friend, too. I'm a woman myself, so I know how to get her worked up until the next month or two." The blonde looked at her with a slacked jaw and a pout, which the redhead laughed and patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, Harl, you're as much a lady as I am. I never leave you out."

"Aww, shucks, Red!" Harley leaned up and kissed her cheek, making both him and Edward groan, the latter closing his eyes and turning away. "Hey, you boys got girls of your own!"

"Because we're not same-sexed like you two!"

Jonathan felt his cheeks burn as some eyes were on them now. "Damn it, Ed, keep your voice down!" he hissed. "This is Iris and me, not you two -" He glanced at the girls from the corner of his eyes. "- or you and Joan. We're not like either of you, and I respect her too much to just take her on the desk or in the broom closet, or in an empty cell every night."

Pamela looked offended, but she held herself straight. "Fine, hmmph! Jonathan, you need some guidance to get Iris' engine rolling until you're out of Arkham, if not like any of us..."

~o~

"Did you wear that...just for me?"

It had been two weeks since they confessed their feelings and she had been "negotiating" with the board of Arkham and the DA's office the release of Jonathan Crane. So far, things had gone smoothly, but bumpy with Janet Van Dorn sticking her nose where it didn't belong, but she would not win this round. She wanted all of the Rogues in Blackgate, but not if Iris DeLaine had anything to say about it.

She was back in the blue satin blouse from two weeks ago, but this time with her favorite tight black trousers and heeled boots, hair in the chignon. She looked up and raised her eyebrows when Jonathan casually sat down in his chair before her, that look on his face all too familiar. Both eyebrows were raised, mouth in a tight smile devious all the same. "Excuse me?" she asked, raising her left eyebrow. That was not something he would say to her, unless...

"I asked if you decided to wear that for me, given a certain day two weeks ago when we..." Jonathan went on, drawling now, and she held up her hand.

"If you're trying to make fun of me, you're not doing a good job at it," Iris told him coolly, though a smile of her own twitched both corners of her mouth.

"Believe me, my dear, I wasn't."

That leaning back in the chair did not fool her. "Who put you up for this? Eddie?" _Of course,_ her mind answered. _He had to get him to say something as naughty as "Did you wear that for me?"_

"If I said no," Jonathan purred, her skin itching now, "then I'd be lying." Now he leaned forward, one leg crossing over the other, and his eyes piercing through his glasses. "I know you too well, Iris. That shirt is so...tight, for lack of a better, more scandalous term. Shows more than it needs too even if I don't see everything..."

She coughed behind her hand a few times, though it was only for show. "That's quite enough, thank you."

"Oh, but I haven't even begun," he said wryly, standing up and slowly advancing her away. Iris leaned back in her own chair, arms folded in front of her and her thighs spread in relaxation. If he noticed, then he didn't say anything...yet, or gave no indication as of yet either. "The fact you have no shame, Iris DeLaine, riles me up and I'm so tempted to follow Eddie's example in this office, on this desk between us, after all. If we're going to play this little game until my release date, might as well follow, _doctor_." His eyes darkened seductively that it made her begin to throb below, but her thighs were too fluid to move.

"You're my patient, so you don't give me orders," she ground out, remaining where she was and looking up still into his eyes. He laughed, low and dark, only it wasn't Scarecrow.

"Right now I do," he returned. "I have two more weeks left to have some fun."

"Not the kind of fun you think. We had an agreement to not go anywhere near Joan and Edward's status, remember?" She uncrossed one arm and waved a finger at him. "We have one hour until your session is up, but what do you want to do in the meantime?" Iris waved behind him, the ache below her waist remaining that she cursed him for it and would not give him the satisfaction of seeing. After this, she had no patients for another hour to see, so she might have time until then - but for now, she was stuck with this bothersome arousal thanks to Jonathan. But thankfully, she had her own private restroom in this office and some personal products to help.

"How about, since we are done with me, we can talk about your next...unfortunate victim," Jonathan said as he sat back down and crossed his legs once more.

Iris felt her mouth twitch, knowing the implication behind his words. "You miss working alongside me. You miss your experiments." Of course he did, but if he got involved, it might risk not only him getting caught again, but the both of them...and fear was his LIFE...

"I wish I could be there to join you, like Ra's al Ghul did so long ago when you took care of your mother. I miss hearing the sound of screaming - although it pleases me to understand a human being even more. Tell me something, and I don't recall ever asking you before: do you regret meeting Ra's?"

~o~

 _7 years ago..._

She had the apartment all for herself for the next few hours. Alice was once again on a date with the lizard, Iris thought to herself with a snort as she tried to think of what to do to pass the time. She'd done reading, cleaned the house after coming back from school, so what else was there to do?

There had been one thing she used to do at night, alone in her room, but it had been a few months since Dr. Crane was fired and she had not pleased herself in bed for a long time. A boy or girl - man or woman - could go insane after a long time, and now that she realized it, her body felt irritated and needed release. She was not a silly schoolgirl, priding herself on it, but she needed to do this before Alice returned with Billy, however long it would be. Snarling, wearing a long-sleeved black shirt and shorts, Iris stalked to her room and yanked open the top drawer of her dresser and pulled out the nearest tube of gel she could find, not bothering to read if it was the cooling version or the heated one. _Either one is fine with me as long as I fix this problem._

She found her release, laying on her stomach with her legs alternating between spread or brought together in her self-rapture, relieved and exhausted - and then upon hearing the doorbell ring, she shrieked and nearly jumped out of her skin when she fell out of bed, scrambling to her feet and dashing to the bathroom to wash her hands before straightening her hair out, putting it up in a ponytail before running downstairs for the door.

"Hello, Iris. I hope I didn't catch you at the wrong time," Henri Ducard said as soon as he turned her way, smiling as he looked her over in the doorway.

"Mr. Ducard. I didn't think I would see you again any time soon."

He chuckled. "You haven't forgotten about me."

"How could I?" she returned with a little smile. "Are you here to...begin my training now?" She looked behind him to see if he brought anyone with him. A part of her mind flared with a little worry as she feared Alice would be home so soon and ask questions about the strange man in their home. "My sister might be home soon, so I don't know how long you can be here..."

"She won't be for awhile, I guarantee that," he interrupted, holding his hand up. "I won't take up more than enough of your time, Iris. I have only enough to hold my interest in your...intellects. For example, what you master yourself in."

Iris frowned, stepping aside for him to come inside. By master herself, did he mean whatever gifts and abilities she had that made her strong? All she knew was the psychological mysteries and the effects of drugs on the human mind as Jonathan Crane taught her to do against her enemies. Mina Rosenberg had been arrested for intoxication, in jail since last year, but she was going to be released very soon. Her friends and boyfriend were still around, but they had not bothered her since their "sessions with the mad professor" - she had wanted to finish them off for what they did to both her and Crane, but she might end up caught herself. That was the only reason holding her back.

"Well, all I can tell you - can I get you something?" she asked as soon as she led him into her home she shared with her sister. "Tea? Water?" He answered to the latter, so she grabbed him a bottle from the fridge and one for herself, sitting down at the polished Brazilian island. "I can tell you," she repeated, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig, "that I'm skilled in the psychological aspects of an individual's vulnerable side. The mind is more powerful than the rest of the body. The body might recover, but the mind never does. Fear is the most manipulating emotion that rules every other we possess within."

"The League applies the manipulation of fear every day," he agreed, nodding his head in fascination. "However, I doubt you learned this alone. Someone else...close to you had to have taught you this. Someone more experienced in this matter."

"My old professor. Well, not old exactly," Iris said with a nervous giggle, pushing her hair over her shoulder out of habit. "He had been fascinated with fear more than anything ever since he was young. He...suffered in his youth as I had, and he's still so young that he became the youngest professor of psychology at school. He was a good man, but no one understood him as I did."

Ducard's brows furrowed. "May I ask who this remarkable man is?" he queried. "I believe I might help if I understand more."

"His name is Jonathan Crane."

"Crane...he has been your mentor since the beginning. But tell me, about any others in your life."

Iris shook her head. "There isn't much to tell. I have no family who is there for me. There's my grandmother, but I doubt she would do much of anything physical anymore. Her husband, my grandfather, died before I was born, and their son - my father, one of the wealthiest men in Gotham - passed away from HIV when I was only four."

"Your mother - Maria DeLaine. I don't believe we can rule her on the same page as your sister, the product of an extramarital affair between your late father and another woman, correct? I have had some of my best spies look into Maria DeLaine's background, so I believe I can see who is the cause of the darkness in your being..." A smile split his face. "There is one down, but I also believe she can wait. The way I see it, the one who started it all is always best kept for last; it makes revenge against the pain in your veins that much sweeter, Iris."

"I know what that's like," she said softly, lowering her eyes to the exotic marble before her, thinking about her tormentors who helped take her teacher from her. Ducard noticed this.

"Does whoever you are thinking of now have to do with your former teacher, Dr. Crane?" Iris finally raised her eyes to him and nodded; he returned it with a hum. "Well, then, now that we have come to an understanding, it seems that we have an answer as to who to begin your training with."

~o~

 _Today_

"No, I don't," she confessed, uncrossing her arms and placing them on either armrest of her chair. "Because he helped me return to you, helped me finish what you and I both started together. It was Ra's who finally let me in on who he really was not that long after he started teaching me how to fight physically, although you know how limited I am due to my figure, like you." She winked at him. "He did show me how to be discreet with picking my targets, master the art of the ninja, turn the fear against those who prey on the fearful - and he WAS there to watch me finish off my victims, until he died. He was the one who told me that beneath the black and white surface, it's all areas of gray that no one else wants to be a part of."

"The same night everything was...taken from me." He was now looking away from her and at the window, not looking out of it to the view of Gotham. "I sometimes hate myself for not seeing he had another agenda, and that was destroying the city."

Iris inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her lungs. She hadn't known either, until too late. But the League of Shadows was a crusade against corruption since the times before Christ, attacking a collapsing city financially and physically. Jonathan had thought it was for more money for his research, before towards the end after Falcone was arrested, he had pushed her aside because he wanted to protect her. She had stepped aside without questioning him, but guilt came to haunt her when he was arrested and everything went her way. "I still hate the Batman even more. So do you. But I'll have you beside me again as soon as I get you out of here in a couple more weeks," she promised. "I don't regret anything I did in my life. _Nothing_. You shouldn't live with this regret anymore; you should put it behind you now for the sake of both of us now." Living with regret wasn't a life at all, either. She loathed everyone around her for blaming them for everything on her and Jonathan, and for that, they paid.

Jonathan's piercing eyes were on her now. "How should I learn to let it go then, Iris?" he asked softly, the lids narrowing to slits in a nonthreatening way.

"Start by heading back to the place all of this began. As soon as I get you out of here, we're going back to Georgia."

 **Shorter chapter, but it gets better soon. :D I hope you all were satisfied after a long wait. And a Happy New Year.**


	13. Prison of the Soul

**Named after a composition by Adrian von Ziegler, the title is a metaphor for what transpires.**

 **It was mentioned early on that Iris' college foe, Mina Rosenberg, was arrested for intoxication - but we all know the truth ;) - although we never learned what exactly happened afterwards. It's more twisted than anyone else might have thought.**

Chapter Twelve

Prison of the Soul

 _7 years ago..._

It had been yet another week since she last saw Henri Ducard; he always made it a point to surprise her at any time. "Don't be surprised; learn to accept it as a routine," he'd told her before he vanished into the night. "Next time we meet, I will bring you something that will strengthen your creation."

By her creation, he meant her side of the liquidized hallucinogen Dr. Crane had concocted when he was not much younger than she was now. Ducard had been impressed that she, quote "a mere girl of sixteen", had specialized so soon in chemicals on the mind. She'd gotten into college when she was barely a teenager, which had impressed him, too. Men like him - powerful, connected - were not so easily impressed. Neither was Jonathan Crane.

Ducard had left her a message to meet him not that far away from the train station. It was an apartment complex isolated from public eye but one of the richer sections. He reserved it temporarily enough to supervise her before he returned to the East. As soon as she arrived, in her blue sweater, black coat, jeans and boots, she was greeted with a whimpering, shivering sight on the ground, surrounded by figures in black - _ninjas._

"These are my men," Ducard told her. "My disciples. When I call on to them, they obey. However, I allow them to be free as you are only if they swear devout loyalty to the League of Shadows. And right now, we have your first victim. I believe you know who she is."

The question was no different when Scarecrow first brought her into the lab behind his office, and now she looked down at the same face of the one who betrayed them both to Dr. Long and the board. "I answered no differently than I answered Professor Crane when he introduced me to his world," she answered softly, opening her coat and letting it be taken to hung until she was finished here. "Mina Rosenberg. She was let out of jail for charges of intoxication." And jail was where she deserved, but they let her go because of the "justice". She was still a proper little lady in their eyes, but she deserved what Iris fantasized more than just exposing her to her worst fears, which had been toxicophobia - the fear of poisoning, the irony. Her heeled boots clicked softly as she approached the kneeling, bound female, the bruises visible on her exposed legs and arms. She apparently put up a fight with these guys.

Iris looked down when Ducard handed her a knife - a gleaming Japanese dagger which made her heart thump and her blood burn with arousal. The deadly beauty of it, to picture Mina's blood on its stainless steal and the satisfaction to follow...she took it and held it in her fingers, the balance of it intoxicating. She turned her attention back to the prisoner and advanced, the five men standing her up and holding her in place. When she saw Iris, her face twisted.

"You're never going to let it go, are you?"

"You honestly think I'll EVER forgive you, you simpering cow?" Iris snarled. "After you leaked the truth out to Dr. Long, that pompous old man I wish I could kill myself now that I will get the chance with you?" Mina's eyes adverted downwards and gasped in horror upon seeing the Asian blade gleaming menacingly in the younger girl's right hand. "I told you I would take back what you stole from me that very first day, and I did. It was pure satisfaction, but there is one thing I wish I did: I should have killed you and your posse when I had the chance."

She was now raising the weapon to admire it before her prey's eyes. "It seems I can't remember every word I said exactly, but karma was one for sure. Karma applies here now, that you have not lived very pleasantly ever since the authorities let you back onto the streets. You fared no better than I have. Remember I long ago warned you that you pay for your sins? Professor Crane and I might have done something against the law, but we all know who the true sinner is." Her hand moved of its own volition towards Mina's throat; clear tears rolled down her cheeks as she failed to think of a proper comeback. What could she do now that she knew her life was coming to an end.

Iris satisfied herself as well as her new mentor when she pulled the plug - figuratively speaking - and slashed Mina Rosenberg's throat, spewing crimson blood onto her face, the sterling silver of the Japanese warrior's dagger glowing ruby with her first victim's blood. The body was let go, collapsing to the floor with a thud. Her veins rushed with adrenaline as she wished Jonathan was here to see this. Mina was only the first, with more to come.

~o~

 _Today_

She had been thinking of that memory of her very first kill with Ra's al Ghul. It was only after Mina's corpse had been disposed off and never found because he ordered it eviscerated that the question arose in her mind at the time as to who he _truly_ was.

"Ducard is just a mask of who you really are, isn't it?" she'd asked him, and he only smiled at her as if knowing she would catch up sooner or later.

"Indeed. My name is Ra's al Ghul, which is also translated to mean -"

"The demon's head." Her Arabic was limited, but it was fluent otherwise. Linguistics were not at the top of her specialty list, but it was part of her abilities. "So, one of your men takes your true identity while you assume the guise of the right hand man," she had said with a knowing smile. "Another person would call that cheap parlor, but it's genius."

"And one you should take from me. Separating yourself from what you will soon become so no one will stop you. Theatricality and deception are powerful weapons, which I will soon teach you after the art of ninjitsu."

From then on, for the remainder of her senior and graduating year, Iris sustained more scars, blood and bruises in her gruesome combat training, but this she welcomed like a friend as they were no strangers to her body. As well, as she completed her courses, she hunted down the remainders of Mina Rosenberg's band until they were all gone. Each death was ruled as "accidental with no evidence of foul play", all bordered on intoxication on their records as it was common for athletes to engage in those activities. No one suspected Iris DeLaine, a former victim of theirs.

 _"Dr. DeLaine, I'm warning you that your patient will not be set free to roam our streets again,"_ Van Dorn was warning her over the phone, making her chuckle and click her pen out of habit.

"Pardon me, dear Janet, but it is you who are wasting your breath in this matter. The decision stands as Jonathan Crane's assigned psychiatrist and the head of this institution and will face court with enough legal evidence to prove he is legally sane that will invalidate your decision to send him to Blackgate for life imprisonment," she said calmly and coldly, wishing the woman was in front of her so she could see the look on her face, but she would have to settle for a phone talk for now until next week. She was more than confident enough that the judge would side with her as she also happened to know his daughter who had gone to Gotham State with Iris, worked alongside her at Arkham while Jonathan was still its head before she was killed apparently by Falcone's thugs.

 _"I never waste my breath,"_ the District Attorney said heatedly, not realizing she was in deeper than she thought she was. _"You haven't won this battle, doctor -"_

"But I will, I promise you that," Iris interrupted. "Now, do me a favor and stop wasting your words on this useless crusade of yours. Just because you come from a family of lawyers does not mean you will accomplish their ambitions after calling them your own. I myself fought long and hard to get to where I am now; you got your job as a lawyer in the beginning because your family stems from it." She tuned out Van Dorn's comeback when she looked up at the clock, again, out of habit, and cleared her throat. "I hate to break this up, but I have a patient coming in. I do not wish to hear from you again until next week. Are we clear?"

 _"Perfectly, but I warn you, your mad doctor will not make it to see his day of freedom,"_ Van Dorn said frostily before cutting the line.

"The hell he won't," Iris hissed as she glared at the phone before putting it back on its post.

~o~

 _"By the issue and order of the state of New York and the city of Gotham, I hereby declare Jonathan Crane legally sane and therefore free to go."_

He had not been able to stop thinking about those words ever since they left Gotham last night, nor could he forget the look on Janet Van Dorn's face when she lost her case. His release papers had been drawn up that early afternoon and the board's decision had been final, given his progress was positive. As soon as Iris led him out the front doors, press had swarmed them, but Jonathan wasn't interested in talking to them - he just wanted to go home with Iris, but tonight he was leaving with her and catching a personal flight - so Iris brushed them all off and opened the door for him before getting into her shiny black SUV herself and driving off.

Here he was now in an outfit Iris lent him - a blue pullover over a white t-shirt and jeans - and as soon as he had left the courthouse, he smelled the fresh air of coming spring for the first time.

 _And of freedom._

They departed on a private jet Iris owned, left to her by her parents. He remembered laying on a long, warm ivory couch across from her, head plopped on a couple of the dark pillows and having his shoes kicked off. The flight was four hours long, and he remembered as well watching her while she was in her teal blouse with its gracefully draping neckline and free-flowing black skirt, every now and then filling out paperwork on another patient at the hospital whilst giving him her full attention. She even had dinner made for them, which was a simple steak and potatoes plate with a delicious nonalcoholic beverage Jonathan did not remember ever having before - a mango smoothie topped with a mango wedge and a white orchid for decoration - to which Jonathan smiled in return and graciously accepted, his face glowing when he savored the taste of something sweet for the first time in a long time. Seeing him that way seemed to make Iris savor hers, too, and the sight of him so happy.

He _was_ happy. He had been locked away in an insane asylum for two years, and now he was free.

But there was only one more thing left to do.

He looked out the window and felt his insides churn with nausea. Arlen, Georgia, the town of the horrors he lived his whole life. He began to second-guess himself, but Iris sensed it all. "We won't be here long, remember?" she whispered, reaching out to him and putting her hand on his when they stepped out of her jet. "We'll be here for a day and then we are gone once business is finished." By business, there was only one thing that meant "business"; the double use of the word in his own sentence made him want to laugh.

"So, are we just going to go straight for it instead of 'checking out the sights'?" she asked Jonathan a moment later as they began to walk into the direction of their rented vehicle for the day. He nodded; the sooner they got this over with, the better.

Along through the drive through his childhood town, nothing changed a bit. Arlen was in the deep southwest, so there was nothing much but enough to make it look like a small Western town complete with the schoolhouse, the local bar, the few shopping centers, a single neighborhood and everything else important - the one place in the world Jonathan Crane and Iris DeLaine would be going to rested on the outside of town and would not be noticed in time until too late. Not that anyone had been there for years at best, from what he had been told.

At long last, after the long, uneventful, quiet drive all the way out here, the silver Volvo sat before IT.

The old Crane Manor.

Or what was left of it.

His grandmother Mariah's old crumbling estate was a Victorian number that could easily have come from the Gothic era of Dracula, but no one out here had the funding to buy it or sell it to anyone else, letting it go to rot. It had not even been left to him, either, despite the fact he was her grandson and the only living relative she'd had at the time. The vast fields were overgrown and wild - the fields he used to care for in the seasons that passed, got whipped for his slowness, struck, he could go on forever. The old scarecrow was still on its cross of a pole; he remembered always seeing it every time he was taken out back and wishing it was alive so he had a real friend in that godforsaken church to protect him while the crows descended on him, their deadly talons piercing his flesh and drawing more blood than his grandmother could ever do to him...

"Do you really want to go in there?" Iris asked softly, scrutinizing it, her lip curling slightly. He looked beside her, noticing her new wardrobe of choice for now; her royal blue plaid shirt was buttoned down a few to show some skin of her chest and curves, tucked into her tight black jeans, hair wild and behind her back. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his answer.

"Yes," Jonathan answered. By going inside first meant to listen to the voices that remained in there before it all came down from there. The gasoline and matches were all in the trunk and waiting, having been brought in from home so no one suspected the fire by their hand.

They entered through the front door, greeted with falling dust and the threat of debris collapsing overhead. It was dark, with very little light, and the electricity had not come on in years. Neither of them would be surprised if the water system was filled with slime, too. The staircase to upstairs was before them, too. He was the first to step in, barely hearing or feeling much of anything now and once more facing the place where his horrors were born. It began when his mother was young and conceiving him here in this house, giving birth in secret while her own mother stood by and watched with hate; it was Mariah who spat at the newborn while Karen only laid there and wanted the unwanted baby that was her own son gone. It was when he was not even ten years old that she took off for good and he never saw or heard from her from then on. The only sources of sensation he contracted was the awareness that his hands closed into fists so his knuckles turned white, his nails digging into his skin and longing to draw blood that would drip to the dead floor beneath his feet, the cold air washing over him as the voices of the ghosts returned to him...

 _"Disgusting...sinful...like your mother!"_

 _"No, Grandmother, please! Don't make me go there!"_

 _"It's for your sins, Jonathan. What better way to cleanse you of Satan's work that your whore of a mother bestowed into this house? That's exactly what you are: the Devil's spawn!"_

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling as well as hearing his heart beat fast, his skin becoming soaked to the forehead with perspiration as his psyche tried to fight it off. That was the entire purpose of why he was here. _"No, I'm not evil! It wasn't my fault!"_

 _"Speak no more lies! Inside, NOW, where they will draw the filthy blood from you!"_

"Jonathan?"

He jumped when he felt Iris' hand on his shoulder. Jonathan whirled around and looked down at her, taking breaths to control himself and avoided looking at her altogether. "I'm...sorry," he said quietly. "Being here...I feel if I remain just standing here, it will never go away."

She nodded. "Then how about we get out of here now and get the equipment ready?"

That was more than enough of a brilliant idea. They started at the entrance they came in, worked their way through downstairs and just left it there as the entire house would catch on fire in a matter of time. The entire time, Jonathan glimpsed the kitchen where he did all of the cooking and cleaning, then the staircase once more where she would drag him down and out the back to the church which had to be as dilapidated and ready to burn as this place was - and the rooms upstairs, one of which had been his and bare as his mother left it for him, the forbidden room he would sneak to at night and during his grandmother's afternoon rests to expand his knowledge and savor the peace he never had at school or with her. All of this Iris noticed herself but did not ask given she saw everything in his eyes and remembered everything he trusted her with.

Iris handed him a match as soon as they were out the front door, the deed done and the switch ready to be thrown for ignition. "Do the honors, my love."

 _My love..._

That was the first time she had ever said those words to him. He sighed through his nose and let it out slowly, looking deep into her bright sapphire eyes matching his own. That was enough of a reason to light this match along the side of the doorway and then toss it forward, bolting away with her as soon as the amber and gold flames burst and began to spread throughout the manor that had been his prison. A prison of his soul, even though he didn't believe in the afterlife - another reason for her to beat the devil's filth out of him. The heat of the fire reached his face as he stood before the estate and watched as the fire slowly but quickly spread, breaking glass windows and bursting through, consuming it in a rage. He could almost hear the screaming of his grandmother as her spirit seemingly abandoned this age-old cage. Holding Iris close to his body made Jonathan feel freer.

"It's done."

He nodded, but there was one more place to burn. One more old picture to put into the fireplace. He led Iris around the burning house and traveled through the overgrown fields to the very place that destroyed his sanity forever. "This is the church. I know the crows must be all gone, but I can still hear their screeches and the flappings of their wings," he said, the weight of the gasoline tank still in his hands. She opened the door for him and allowed him inside; in a fury, he tossed the last of the tank inside, leaving it in before drawing another match. It would be gone soon, too, the remainders of the past screeching to an end along with his grandmother Mariah Crane and the crows.

"You won't haunt me again, Grandmother," he whispered venomously as he looked on the church, the smell of fire and smoke filling his senses. "I know your life had to have been difficult, but nothing will change how you maimed, screamed at me, locked me in so the crows would claw me away. I was an innocent child - until I became a man and finally gave you what you deserved. I never deserved what you gave me, no matter Mother doing what she did. But neither of you will come and destroy me again." He paused there and shook his head. "Neither of you were the women I needed the most...unlike this one beside me," he said when he turned to look down at Iris, her wild raven hair fluttering in the breeze and shining lightly with her soft smile. "However, one day will come when I might be able to forgive you both one hundred percent as I forgave myself." He felt his throat tighten as he tried not to cry, the power of the light coming on in his being that he accepted as the final step.

~o~

By the time she started the car engine, her cheeks and skin were still burning with not only the fire of both structures, but the poignant memory of Jonathan's speech as he finally let go of the demons of his childhood.

 _Two hearts, two bucket seats,_

 _too much sun not to wear shades_

 _Boot to the pedal and pedal to the metal,_

 _we're the reason this road was paved, yeah_

 _Now honey, how fast you wanna go, NASCAR driving Miss Daisy_

 _Radio loud, radio low, or I can sing if you want me to baby_

 _I can tell God's smiling down, I just get that feeling_

 _You and me going town to town, on two lanes of freedom_

Jonathan smiled upon hearing this song. "We haven't heard this in awhile," he noted, having loved this three years ago when it was first released. Now it fit the two of them having taken this trip out of Gotham to the south. He then unbuckled and got out of the car again, having turned up the radio loud enough to be heard outdoors and risk attracting passerbys. Iris burst out laughing when he came around and pulled her from the driver's seat for a dance.

 _Oh, no red lights or stop signs around for miles_

 _Just swaying trees, your hair in the breeze, and that smile, and I know_

 _"God made old country roads for driving and dreaming,"_ Jonathan sang, feeling like doing so, and twirled them both around so that he was looking down at her and into her eyes, taking in her surprised expression and wide-mouth smile. " _Mine's coming true, girl, here with you on two lanes of freedom."_

 **Another favorite author of mine is Lauralot, known for many fantastic Jonathan Crane stories. :) "Georgia on My Mind" was inspiration for Jonathan putting his past behind him so he could move on was nothing short of perfection, especially when it came to his grandmother. Burning down the house and the church had never been done before to my knowledge, but that was what Norman Bates did in the fourth and final "Psycho" film. It was appros and ultimate closure.**

 **Jonathan's grandmother was called many different names, and it's ironic how Mariah is spelled similar to Maria, Iris' dead mother. XD**

 **You can never go wrong with Tim McGraw, or any of his music I grew up with; this one of his was "Two Lanes of Freedom".**


	14. Release and Reaction

**Jonny now gets to settle into his new home, so more themes of the house to explore. :D And a little more Alice/Jervis - we FINALLY get to see the happy man himself. As you already figured, he's not the Mad Hatter in this version. I don't remember if I said it earlier or not, but it's a nice change. :) He's so sweet and innocent he deserves the girl. The bedroom they share in here was also based off a real aquarium bedroom, too.**

 **The beginning with Alice and Jervis was inspired by a scene between Harold Lee and his wife Maria in "A Very Harold and Kumar 3D Christmas" in which they try some more baby making before her family arrives. XD**

Chapter Thirteen

Release and Reaction

Because she'd grown up from humbler origins, Alice never truly cared for her surroundings, unlike her mother who had constantly pushed her for wealth, convinced when she'd been conceived that she would inherit DeLaine Towers. Well, Alice _did_ inherit the family company, from her dear sister who took a better path down. Come to think of it, it was bigger than anything she'd studied at university, gone back to school for, but it was better than secretarial work. She got better money, did philanthropic work alongside the good ones like Bruce Wayne and Miranda Tate, and was going to be married to Jervis in less than a month. She was more than happy.

She had just returned from the office just now, and discovered that Jervis had, too. While she had the car during the day, Jervis would end up taking a cab to work and back. Life had been good after he moved in with her and Iris, and their shared bedroom was a very special sight especially for visitors.

Just how often did _anyone_ get the chance to have a room like this one? Those who had a smaller budget than the one the DeLaine family or the Wayne heir himself did, normally had an aquarium of average size...but nothing of this one which dominated the entire walls and ceiling, arching gracefully overhead and required a two-week caretaker to care for the fish and their sources of life. Here was Alice Pleasance and her future husband, surrounded with vast marine life and vivid blue that they did not always need natural lighting. Because of the cool and comfortable atmosphere, it was easy for them to sleep at night - but then you could say "poor fish" if any of them understood what the couple did together in bed at night. The bed itself was soft light wood designed into coral, covered with glowing white covers to catch and reflect the blues, and hanging over in canopy style, flowing with sheer white curtains that outlined the swimming fish night after night.

Iris had been gone with Dr. Crane for a couple days now, back to his hometown in Georgia. To help him put his abusive past behind him, no doubt. Alice slipped off her navy suit jacket and hung it up in the closet, and that was when she glimpsed her wedding gown. In her mind, she always envisioned something of _Alice in Wonderland_ , as it was essential to her and Jervis and their sole connection to each other. She remembered in the store seeing the mothers and grandmothers and sisters and best friends helping the bride-to-be try on and pick out their dresses, and it reminded her of the fact that her own mother wasn't there to share her happiness. Sophia had been so eager to marry her daughter off to someone she had no interest in, to ensure she would live comfortably, but then shunned her daughter when she found out she was marrying her former boss who wasn't good money. But what mattered was that Jervis was willing to make her happy, and it made him happy, too.

She exclaimed in surprise when she saw the small negligee piece she'd bought awhile back. It was a chemise with no sleeves and a round neckline, covered all over in light blue spring petals. She smirked as she had an idea for Jervis. He would be home soon, and she needed to make haste.

She was ready in ten minutes, after brushing her hair over her shoulders and spraying on her favorite perfume - a glamorous bouquet of peaches, plums, roses, jasmines, cinnamon, sandalwood, and vanilla - and her favorite plain white robe just to hide the surprise underneath. The bedroom was always the first place Jervis would come to - after a soft drink of course. Alice plopped onto the bed and just laid there, on her side and facing the door, hand on hip in a suggestive pose. Smirking, she sat up when the door finally opened and in walked Jervis.

"Alice, love, I was wondering where you - oh." He stopped mid-sentence when he saw her. "Oh, dear, someone's looking…very _Alice_ today," he said shyly. His face blushed madly red when she stood and opened her robe to show the chemise.

"Someone's also very… _soft_ at the moment -" Her eyes lingered to below his waistline. "- and needs some hardening."

"Oh…" How adorable of Jervis to not know what to say when he was being seduced…or at least trying to be. "Um…Iris is going to be home any minute, and she's bringing Jonathan home with her."

Her mind clicked. Oh, that was right; Jonathan Crane had been released, and Iris was bringing him home. His room had been prepared for him, thanks to her and Jervis' help, and all he had to do was get himself settled in. Alice was no psychiatrist, but readjusting to normal life wasn't going to be easy for him.

But there was still some time left, and she had gotten ready all for Jervis and what she wanted to do with him before Iris arrived home. She leaped off the bed and pressed herself up against him and pressed a long, lingering, needy kiss against his, before taking him by the collar and dragging him with her for the bed. The backs of her knees hit the side of the mattress, and she tumbled back onto it, bringing Jervis with her. "Then let's. Get. _To it_. Because I got myself all gussed up just for you, and there's no going back now. So, come on and put a baby into me," she growled, giving her hips a shake as she parted her legs for him, and that was all it took.

"Okay, I will."

~o~

The shiny black SUV belonging to Iris - her own that she paid for herself, nothing left to her - pulled up in front of a garage - the garage that was built on its own and away from her home, and hidden within a forest only some yards from the place. Jonathan smiled as he leaned back against the tan leather seat, sighing as he beheld the sight around him: the suburban-like structure surrounded by distinctive forestry…and the path cutting through the left direction and into the forest. Only it wasn't a road; it was an open gateway to show DeLaine Manor in the distance. He unbuckled and jumped out of the car enthusiastically along with a laughing Iris. Here he was in the same blue pullover he wore in Georgia over a white t-shirt and jeans and happy to now be home with Iris.

He looked beside him to gaze upon Iris…and how stunning she had dressed for today. The dress was triple-colored with a blue bodice and elbow sleeves, a teal ruched waistline, and a black skirt that reached mid-calf. Her hair was running loose and wild once more, to make her beauty as natural as it ever was. She knelt down to slip off her heels and show off her pretty little feet once again. Jonathan frowned in confusion until she looked up and smiled, clarifying, "I like to take walks home from here. Heels don't help matters here, and besides, I like the feel of the grass under her my feet. You should try it." She nodded to the dirty borrowed sneakers he wore. He knelt down to remove them - they felt comfortable, yes, but they didn't fit his personality - and his socks, so that he felt his bare feet taking in the moisture of the green earth. He had joined the most beautiful girl in all the world in this walk through nature for home.

As he walked through what Pamela always called "the true earth", his thoughts dwelled back to Eddie, who had yet to finish his time, and to the previously mentioned redhead and Harley. He missed them already, especially Harley and Eddie. Harley knew how to brighten up his day, even if she'd had a homicidal clown for a boyfriend. And Eddie…

"Here we are. Home sweet home," Iris announced cheerfully. They had reached the clearing, and there stood the majestic DeLaine Manor. It was the same as he remembered from his days as professor and head of Arkham, from the fountain in the front to the pillars holding the roof and many balconies up in their places. Iris led him up the stoned steps to the great dark door, and opened it for him. He barely contained himself as he let out a little gasp at the sight. Why was he even thinking that this place was changed?

Everything was as it always had been, from the fine European chandelier above the foyer to the opulent Moroccan-inspired foyer he was in. This was where she had promised he would live as long as he wished. This was home.

 _Home._

"Alice! Jervis!" Iris called, slinging her handbag over her shoulder and holding her heels in that same hand, handing Jonathan his shoes. The feel of the grass was still under his feet, and it felt like he had never taken a walk like that in his life. "Look who's here!"

"Oh, my God, Jonathan!" Alice Pleasance was blonde and bubbly like Harley, except she was more mature than the jester girl ever was, but the way she danced down the stairs with Jervis - he was happy to see his old friend from his days as professor - in a one-shouldered light blue dress with delicate rosettes and threw her arms around him. "It's so good to see you. I've wanted to welcome you to the family."

If only he could tell her that she was on the verge of suffocating him, except it wasn't as threatening as Harley's hugs were. Jonathan laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist. Iris watched on with a smirk.

"It's wonderful to see you again, Jonathan," Jervis told him with a pat on the back.

"Is everything ready, you guys?" Iris asked. "I need to go freshen up for dinner, first, so why don't I take Jonathan to his room?" He turned to face her when she mentioned "his room". His mind was beginning to whirl a bit. His room…he would have his own room. His own bed, a decent shower, wandering about as he wished…all for the first time in three years. One being the year he was on the streets since his discovery and arrest.

Iris took him to the elevator that he remembered being installed for those who did not wish to take the long stairs up. Its speed controls were programmed faster than any elevator, but anyone with money could afford to have repairs if necessary. They were brought to a halt on the second floor, where Jonathan was greeted with a miraculous sight. The hall was opulent and clean white - whiter than any Greek or Roman structure - with the floors polished sanded marble and gold-framed portraits of landscapes, arched doorways with closed wooden doors that looked like they came from the Gothic era, and numerous chandeliers of the same design that hung from the ceiling, similar but more advanced to the one in the foyer downstairs. Iris brought him to the third door on their right, and turned to him with a smile. "Close your eyes."

Whatever his room looked like, it sure was a surprise. Jonathan chuckled and obeyed, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard the sound of the doorknob turning and the door opening, and then felt her take his hand and lead him inside. "Now, open them."

Words did no justice for this state of majesty he now stood in. It looked like it came from the Tudor era, with the oak wood floors under a rug of burgundy lapped with delicate, antique florals - all under a grand canopy bed of dark cherry, the posts crawling over with carved flowering vines, the curtains drawn up of golden satin. The bed covers were rich burgundy and brown satin embroidered with gold medallions. Before the window was a table runner over with a fabric designed like the rug itself, and three chairs drawn up. The window itself was hung with sheer white curtains to give him some privacy but also let in some light, and on either side were curtains of rich red-and-gold brocade. The wallpaper on every wall was plain wine-red, absent of extra decoration so that the room wasn't too extravagant and overwhelming. There was a great wardrobe of the same wood as his bed on the right side of it. Before the bed was a fireplace carved similar to the bed and wardrobe. His breath was taken all the same. This was… _amazing._ It suited him, his personality… _everything_. He felt like crying in spite of himself.

"Thank you so much, Iris," he choked out, turning around and hugging her.

She placed a kiss on his lips softly before pulling away. "I'm going to get changed for dinner. You go ahead and take your time to…freshen up." She winked before turning away and leaving him alone to his new surroundings.

Jonathan couldn't believe this; two years ago he had been living in an asylum - _his_ asylum - and now he was out and living in endless luxury. DeLaine Manor's countless rooms were filled with various exotic themes, and this looked like it was from sixteenth-century England. He gave a little shout of joy like a child who had just received a new pet and flopped himself onto the bed, sighing passionately as he stared up at the ceiling, once again unable to believe his luck.

He didn't have anything with him that he'd been allowed to bring home, and his old rathole apartment he had shared with Edward in the Narrows had been ransacked from bedroom to kitchen and all - even when Edward himself was arrested - so there was nothing left for him to bring and unpack, but he imagined that Iris and Alice had his wardrobe ready for him. With that in mind, he stood and walked to the wardrobe and opened the large door, letting out an unmanly gasp at the sight. The girls _did_ have everything for him. How they knew his size, he had no idea, but he figured they guessed and got it right. He had some suits that looked like his old ones from his days as administrator, and - to his own initial dismay - some pairs of jeans. He never liked denim as much as Iris did, because it was too tight and casual. His shirt collection consisted of crisp collared ones - exactly what he was used to - and some t-shirts and sweats. He selected a cool gray collar shirt and black slacks, and a pair of polished black shoes before walking to the door next to his dresser - which was right next to the bedroom door – and discovered a bathroom more breathtaking and natural than the Tudor theme.

The clean, white walls and floors were filled with a fascinating style evoking the serenity of a Japanese garden. To his left, he saw a wide, square mirror of pale oak over a counter slab of white wood, the toilet sitting beside it. Beyond it all was the pure image of a garden. Placed on an L-shaped dark gray stone platform and halfway enclosed behind a glass wall were rocks of gray, planted with green bamboo plants and some trees, the smell of the herbs filling the air. Three snowy white stone platforms led his eyes to where the shower stall from the ceiling behind the glass would sprinkle down, like automatic sprinklers in your average garden over the plant life. He could just picture himself being pampered that way like a plant under fresh spring rain. Iris was spoiling him too much on his first day out of Arkham.

Smiling bright like the room, Jonathan tossed his outfit of choice over the Japanese screen framed in black, the white rice screen silhouetted with bamboo trees, and eagerly stripped naked and dropped his clothes to the flawless floor and sauntered over to the paradise that waited for him. The second he turned on the faucet, water sprayed overhead and onto his body like a fine mist. He sighed _loud_ , throwing his head backwards and letting the drops trickle over him. Finally, a decent shower all to himself without supervision.

His hair matted to his head, Jonathan ran his fingers through it and felt some grime in it, as the hair products given to him in Arkham were enough to cause dandruff and hair loss. His luck changed when he saw the hair and body products left for him on the little slab in the corner of the wall to his left. The shampoo and conditioner were Chinese brands, combining ancient Chinese herbs; he could smell the native Chinese lotus flower, the ginseng plant, and green tea.

The body wash was Brazilian, a delicious but sultry opposition - peach and apricot with pineapple, mango and grapefruit. The label on the back clearly said it was filled with skin-loving minerals, rich with vitamins: pomegranate, grape seed and tea extracts to help soothe. Jonathan exited once he was done, much to his own disappointment, but Iris, Alice, and Jervis were waiting for him. He grabbed a soft, fresh white towel softer and fresh-smelling than clean linen to dry himself off before tossing it back where it was and crossing to the Japanese screen to dress.

He left the bathroom, feeling and smelling fresher than ever to his own nostrils, and walked over to his dresser. He smiled and fondly ran his fingertips over the spines of the books that stood off to his left, then looked down and recognized a certain bottle of cologne. He picked it up and stared at it, its detail all too familiar even though many bottles looked alike…but the moment he opened its cap and sprayed it on himself, he remembered the very first day this was given to him so long ago…

~o~

 _8 years ago…_

Professor Crane sighed in irritation after yet another long day of these mindless twits - all except one obvious. He watched as they all piled out of there, rambunctious as normal, and hollering to their friends about the party tonight or whatever. All filed out but Iris, as always. He gave her a small smile as she approached his desk, wearing a black blouse and skirt and her favorite heeled boots…and holding out a small, finely wrapped box of gold and a shiny blue ribbon. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"What's the occasion, Miss DeLaine?" he inquired as he picked up his red pen for some grading until the next class. She just laughed and dropped her book bag into the chair before his desk.

"Happy birthday, Professor."

All day he had purposefully been avoiding that topic of the day. His birthday was never anything special, nor did he ever do anything special other than head to his favorite restaurant with Edward and feast on a pasta dish and then return home to finish out the evening with a glass of wine. But since last year, Iris would give him a gift, his last one being the fine black Fossil watch he wore on his left wrist, and he never once took it off to put on a different one. Eddie never got him any gifts other than taking him out for some "fun". Now he was curious about this newest one. "Really, you shouldn't…" he started, but she cut him off.

"Nonsense, silly. I brought this just for you. Open it."

Crane lowered his pen to the papers and took the package from her and proceeded to undo the ribbon and deftly tear open the paper. Inside the plain black box was an arch-shaped bottle of cologne, as clear a blue as the sky. He eyed it curiously as he removed the satiny smooth black lid and inhaled the nozzle, getting a seductive mix of smoky leather, bourbon, spicy black pepper, and fresh leaves. "Mmm," he murmured, spraying himself twice with it, not caring that whoever in his next class would have allergies, or the fact that he was already swearing his other usual scent. This one was better than that one. Iris had chosen well. He looked up at her, silently telling her that she had given him the best birthday present ever. She was the light of his day, and already he was thinking of taking her out with him tonight. Nothing personal to the lines of inappropriate - just because he wanted the pleasure of her company and a break from Edward's nonsense.

~o~

 _Today_

Jonathan found his way to the kitchens without any trouble, having only to follow the smell of cooking. It smelled big - bigger than whatever it was that he imagined that he truly didn't know about. Jervis was a master chef, but he remembered that Miss Alice had struggled even though she tried her hardest. He wondered if she improved her skills thanks to Iris and Jervis.

He stood in the doorway, looking around at the rustic woods paired with modern Gothic carvings of ivory, and stopped to where he saw Jervis in the chef's white apron, aided by Alice in getting the great meal prepared. Sadly he didn't get the chance to step in when Alice whipped around and shrieked and bolted his way.

"Oh, out of my kitchen!" she said with mock-rage. "You're not getting anything yet with Iris not around!" She laughed with him as she led him through another doorway. "You wait in here until Iris comes in. Dinner's almost ready, but you'll have to wait, I'm afraid." She looked up at him with a little puppy dog pout before leaving him alone, chuckling at her humor and ways of keeping the house in order. He looked back in front of him at the beauty of the dining room. All the elements reminisced the French Chateaux of Provence during the reign of Louis XIV. The color choices consisted of soft gold accenting the wood inlaid dining table and chairs, along with crimson red in the floral arrangements in the middle of the table, burnt orange in the wallpaper, deep navy blue and cool earth tones highlighting the Persian era rug. But despite its custom and overloaded grandeur, this dining room maintained an element of warmth and invitation.

The long table was set as equally fine as the rest of the room. The clear crystal glasses, handcrafted in Italy as it seemed, were rimmed and stemmed with dazzling gold-plated accents. The dinnerware, sided with silverware exquisitely etched with floral designs on the glimmering gold parts, was also in the style of royalty; it was fine white porcelain accented with roses and doves. After seeing what he had seen of this whole house so far, he was utterly breathless. _This is going to be the rest of my life…_

"Jonathan."

He tore his eyes from the finery of the room to gaze upon the beauty in the doorway. His breath caught in his throat all at once. For the love of a God he wasn't sure existed, he couldn't find the words to say for the looks of her that was destined to make this a memorable first night. "Iris…"

~o~

Iris smiled at Jonathan as she stood in the doorway to the dining room, taking in how handsome and refreshed he looked. Seeing him happy made her happy, too. She'd even thrown on this outfit just for him - it was really Alice's idea to put this on when he first moved in, really. She wasn't into bright colors, but this made her look and feel more feminine. The dress was mid-calf length and sleeveless, colored blush pink, with golden leaves swirling on the highly beaded bodice. Her glittering shoes were that of a princess', with two-and-three-quarter-inch heels and pretty satin bows. Her hair was half up, half down, the curls and crown defined and decorated with small rhinestone flower clips, pulled back to show chandelier earrings of dangling pearls and tear-shaped crystals. No arm band necessary, as this was an innocent enough appearance.

And by the look in Jonathan's eye…he was blown away.

"You're beautiful," he breathed.

She'd been called beautiful before, and this time was no exception. Of course, Jonathan was the only one ever to comment here with such sincerity…but this time it was more than just that. This man whom she had grown to love meant every word. He made his way around the table so that he was standing before her, holding his hand out to her in silent offer to bring her to the table. She laid her hand into his open palm - her nail color now changed to pastel pink with a golden sparkle - but gave his hand a tug in her direction. He gave her a frown of confusion, but she gave him a reassuring smile and led him with her and out the side door of the dining room to where the family cemetery was resting. There was one thing she needed to do before dinner, before they could have their alone time and peace.

At the very end of the vast piece of land surrounded with a wrought iron fence and under a great tree were two very ornate gravestones. Side-by-side they stood, both granite surfaces were bordered with detailed flowering vines and a cherubic angel face at the top, surrounding the names of Maria Convée DeLaine and Marcus Andrey DeLaine, as well as the dates of their births and deaths. Both graves were grown with wildflowers and ivy vines. Iris gazed down at them both, to the point of digging her nails into her palms and drawing blood…but she forced herself to remain calm. Jonathan put his hand on her shoulder knowingly. "Should I leave you alone?" he asked carefully.

She nodded. "I'd appreciate it." He nodded, too, and walked away from her to stand by one of the other headstones.

She knelt down, careful not to get her dress dirty. Her mind was telling her over and over that the man who abandoned her and the woman who abused her did not deserve this…but she had not been to the graves of her parents in years even though she always lived in this house. Even after Marcus died, Maria never allowed her anywhere near his resting place. "Well, I suppose this means I should follow the example of the man I love," she said. "There really isn't much for me to say, because you both know what you both did, except I'm going to get this over with so that life can go on." She sounded harsh even to her own ears. but this had to be done. Iris took a deep breath.

"Father…" she began, anxiety taking over. "I know that you couldn't bear living with Mother because of the way she was. Believe me, I can understand why you did. It's not easy having to put up with someone who constantly preens themselves up because they want to stand out, to be feared and respected…to be _modeled._ Daddy, I really don't know what to say to you because I never knew you long enough before you left us for good." Her throat was threatening to constrict.

"I have so many unanswered questions, Daddy. Questions I wish you would be here to answer, never mind the excuse that you would remain silent because you didn't know how to say it in the 'right way'. I would have said otherwise, but I'm angry at you for what you've done to me. I'm supposed to hate you as much as _her_ , but we both know who is to blame to push you away from us. It's difficult to hate someone you never knew as much as the one who now rests beside you in the next life." With that, she turned to face her mother's gravestone.

"You know full well what I have to say, and it is more than you may be expecting. I became a psychologist for a reason - to study why certain people do wrong things to others. It was what you've always wanted me to feel. You wanted me to _suffer_ , so that your own self wasn't rivaled."

Iris cleared her throat and sat up on her knees straighter. "But you know what else, Maria? I was a _child_ , an innocent little girl conceived only because you got your revenge at Father for leaving you. No child deserves to be treated the way I was, especially not Jonathan. Because you only cared about looking marvelous for your precious magazine editions, you only tried shoving me into your husband's hands. But you sent him back to his affairs all around the world until it ultimately claimed his life. I'm not shifting blame to anyone; it's the _truth,_ even though I accept responsibility for it. Everything _was_ your fault, and I honestly believe that I've done better than you ever did. I don't get all my money just because I need it. And I don't pose and smile for people just because I'm your daughter. I'm respected because I treat people right, and I'll tell you this: I love the man who was my teacher in college, my employer in Arkham and colleague…and my best friend besides Alice. And I've successfully helped him leave that wretched place just as I will continue to do so for other infamous Rogues. I love what I do, and I no longer hate myself and everything around me - save for a few who openly disregard me. I'm sorry I ever thought before I was seventeen that you would be a loving human being than you were to me as a child, but there was never any hope for you. I really wish there had been, but it's far too late for forgiveness, Maria. I only was here to follow the example my lover did with his grandmother while we burned down the prison of his past together - except I'll be kind enough to spare you from that."

Iris arose gracefully and towered over the graves. She turned and left the end of the cemetery and met up with Jonathan. Behind him, she saw the sun beginning to vanish beneath the horizon, leaving behind a blanket of tender pink that accepted the golden yellows, harmonizing with tranquil blue that mourned with royal purple and dark indigo. It was symbolic of the ending of a day and the beginning of a new one. Very much like starting a life anew. Jonathan's hand brought her back to make eye contact with him. "Are you okay?"

She smiled. "Very. Take me back inside. I'm starved, and I have a present for you. A welcome back gift."

~o~

"You know, I could have just taken the day off and spent it with you," Iris protested as she was led out the door by Jonathan early that morning. "I told you last night that I -"

"Nonsense," Jonathan told her as he handed her her coat and handbag. "I'll be fine for the day. I'll just relax and chill, try to get adjusted to being free for the first time in a long time." He turned to look back at the big mansion behind him as soon as he stood on the steps, regretting saying the words as there were parts of the house that he wasn't too familiar with.

"Are you sure?" Iris stopped where she was halfway down the front steps. "I should at least -"

"Iris DeLaine, I'm a grown man." He didn't mean to sound too harsh, but it was the only way he had to convince her. "Besides," he said, descending the steps and taking her into a quick kiss, "Eddie and the others need you. I'll see you when you get back."

That was all it took. She looked up at him and smiled. "Okay, then. I'll pick something up for dinner. Give Alice time off the stove tonight," she called over her shoulder. Alright, he was a little disappointed that her hair wasn't down in waves as he loved it to be, but at least she was always so beautiful - a natural unlike her mother had been. She disappeared through the clearing of the trees.

As soon as she was gone, Jonathan took a look at his surroundings. Words couldn't describe the shivers he felt as he dwelled on the fact that he was alone. Not alone like he had nobody in his life, but alone in his new home. He had it all to himself for the day, until Iris returned home. Miss Alice and Jervis had left not too long ago.

He took a moment to look down at his right hand and smiled at the gift from Iris last night. The ring was striking enough, with a raised braid that held a gem in each loop…a diamond and a citrine - his birthstone - alternating. This was one of the best presents she'd ever given him, besides the cologne he loved so much. Usually when you gave someone a gift, it didn't mean much of anything but buying them off. Well, at least, that was with most people, anyway.

He looked down and saw that he was still wearing his robe given to him - vivid blue silk that clung to his every slender angle - and decided first thing to head to his room and take a shower as he hadn't done so yet. Last night he had slept with no clothes on, due to the fact that the brown silk sheets were cool to the touch, smelling fresh like the morning mist. Truth was that he hadn't slept that way since he was incarcerated, despite the fact Ed had seen him before, because he didn't the orderlies sent into a state of permanent blindness when they came to retrieve him for therapy. Reasons for going without sleep clothes were because he wanted to try to get used to his body again after the abuse he endured at Gotham State.

Jonathan wasn't going to lie, he loved this open-spaced Japanese dream space - Edward would be jealous. Never in his life had he ever dreamed of living what could have existed only in the imagination. And his wardrobe really wasn't all that bad, either. When he said he hated denim earlier, he really hated because it was too suffocating. But Iris seemed to have gone to lengths to have the fabric tailored just for him. He sighed, thinking, _Oh, Iris…she remembers everything about me all too well._ Tossing on a navy V-neck cashmere sweater and equally dark jeans, he left his room to explore more of the house.

Placing his hands on the dark wrought iron of the railing of the second level, Jonathan surveyed the foyer like a prince surveying his palace, taking in the lush pillars surrounded by tiled Indian floors - Indian and Moroccan inspirations were two entirely different things, but it was a surprise that they coexisted in one room very well - and the exotic doorways shamelessly left open and devoid of doors. As it turned out, all bedrooms were on the level he was on, whilst the kitchen, dining room, living area, and the grand ballroom were located on the floor he was currently gazing down at, and the one above his head - the third and final floor of the manor - bore all rooms recreational, including the spa room, which was also Moroccan as this foyer. It made him laugh as he thought of how this home never failed to impress anyone with its many rooms based after different cultures worldwide. He tore his eyes away from below and went off to explore more.

Every bedroom door was closed - every door being as white a wood as the painted walls of the hall - all but one. This one was partially opened, but mostly he saw dark colors of the room illuminated by light of the open windows. A tiny part of his mind told him he shouldn't be peeking into someone else's room like this without the owner around - except he did it anyway. And by the looks of the blacks and teals, some ivory, this room turned out to be the master bedroom. Belonging to Iris, the mistress of the manor.

He stepped into the room, admiring how she'd renovated the room after Maria's death so that it fitted her and her only. He'd never seen the master bedroom before, because from psychologist's experience, females were very protective of their private spaces. Looking around, he suddenly became curious as to whether there was something about Iris that he had no idea about…he had no idea why that came up, but it wasn't severe, either. He decided to walk over to the black nightstand on the right side of the bed, and sat down, slightly creasing the teal-and-black comforter, and opened the top drawer.

And what he saw there left him utterly appalled all the same.

 _Iris owned the Kama Sutra._

And off to the side of it were several colored bottles of lubricants and self-pleasuring liquids.

He felt his cheeks burn when his fingers opened the book marked down with the black silk marker, showing the latest position she'd read; she clearly wanted to try this one with him. It stunned him, but at the same time wasn't so surprising. This position was the traditional lotus, in which the female sat on the male's lap, straddling him and wrapping around for balance; she would rock herself back and forth whilst tightening her vaginal muscles, and that he should follow along with her.

Jonathan exhaled with a shudder at the images conjured up by that illustration showed, with the man's naked rear end facing him…of him and Iris that way. He unwillingly tore his eyes away from the page to look at the various bottles.

Pleasure Potion lubricants…

Love Liquid lubricants…one being classic and the other scented of peppermint…

Divine Nectars…raspberry lime, vanilla orange, and strawberry kiwi…

Pleasure Balms…these with fancier names like Créme de Menthe, Lime Mojito, Raspberry Kiss, Spearmint, and Raspberry Dreams…

Intensify Arousal Gel…warming, cooling, and prolonging gel for men…

Turned out that the Pleasure Balms were used best for when you placed them on the best areas for oral use, such as the breasts, lips, thighs, and so on. She'd been saving them for her and him…he licked his lips as he imagined her putting that stuff on his own thighs, his chest and nipples, his manhood…

He exclaimed in surprise when it turned out that the most recent product use, out of them all, was one of the Divine Nectars. Ironic that she used nectar to blend in with the natural nectar formed during arousal. The comparison of that made his face flush hotter than before, even as he read the label: _An exotic caress of the lips and fingers on the skin. Juicy raspberries with a touch of tart lime. Directions: Apply lubricant directly to the genital area. Use more if desired._

In spite of himself, Jonathan unscrewed the cap of the bottle with an idea of what he could spend most of the day doing.

~o~

When Iris got to her office, there stood a very ill-looking Dr. Leland. Her face looked like she was going to be sick. Iris frowned. If the her friend and colleague wasn't feeling well, why didn't she call and take the day off? "Joan, are you all right?" she asked even though it was a stupid question, grabbing her keys and unlocking her door. No sooner had the deed been done did the older woman zoom past her and dash for the trash can behind her desk and made a noise as she unleashed whatever she'd had in her stomach. Iris frowned as she closed the door behind her and walked to where Joan knelt, a theory buzzing in her mind. It wasn't much, but it regarded sickness this early in the morning and those constant romps with Edward in the broom closet….

"I'm - I'm sorry, Iris," Joan choked out, looking up and showing her sage eyes reddened and spilling tears. She wiped them away and sniffled. Iris knelt beside her and helped her up so they made eye contact. Then Iris turned away from her and reached down to the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a small purple box.

"It's all right, I'm here as a friend," she said gently. "Listen, Joan, why don't you try this?" she asked, nodding for the door to the opposite right of her that was her private bathroom.

 **Jonathan's new room was a dream to do, as well as the dining room, the dinnerware based off of sets from Midnight Velvet; the era of Louis XIV was nothing short of splendor, even though one of his heirs, the sixteenth, was a disgrace to the line. He's being spoiled so much he better not get too far in. ;D**

 **Jonathan had done the same thing in talking to his grandmother's headstone in "Georgia on My Mind" by Lauralot, and Bruce had been outside but near the distance of the cemetery as Jonathan gave his speech about his hatred and fear of her, ultimately saying she didn't deserve to die so he could move on. It was very poignant and emotional. I tried my best not to use TOO much of Jonathan's words for Iris. As well, her words to her father and their love-hate relationship were taken from Vytina's "My Medea" on deviantart.**

 **The love products are also real ones from a real online website called Kama Sutra - named after the text itself AND inspiring from. Even the directions could not be changed much for obvious reasons. ;D**


	15. Family Matters

Chapter Fourteen

Family Matters

"Afternoon, Iris, and how are you today?" Edward asked the lovely woman pleasantly as Carl brought him in that afternoon, as usual. He noted how…sunnier she looked today now that Jonathan was back out on the streets. He wondered how his friend was doing now that he was a single man in their old cell now. How was he adjusting at DeLaine Manor? What was he even going to do with his life now that he was a free man?

He missed him now, and it was the fourth day.

"My session, Eddie," Iris teased him, nodding for the orderly to leave him with her. "And I'm fine," she answered with her favorite little smile. "How are you?"

"I'm very fine, indeed, except I miss my cellmate," Edward replied honestly.

She laughed and threw her head back. "I know what you're feeling. But it won't be long till you yourself are out of here." She leaned back against her chair, leg crossed over the other, putting her hands behind her head.

Edward laughed humorlessly and imitated her. "Maybe. If I'm as lucky as Jon." Sadly, he wasn't all that lucky as Jon. Jon had the opportunity to leave Arkham with permission to go to his hometown of Arlen, Georgia, with Iris as his chaperone. To put his past behind him. There was nothing much for Edward to make amends for, anyway. After Jon, he had his downside having to do with his old boss and the coroner's office, and the Batman who was one of those who didn't understand them and never would. He would never be allowed back in with GCPD again, and his options were limited to none.

"What are you thinking?"

He looked away from the window to see that Iris had assumed the position of leaning forward in her chair, hands folded neatly in front of her as she studied him curiously. He relaxed and brought his arms down. "Just thinking about getting out the same way Jon did," he answered honestly.

Her face lit up a little. "Really? Tell me how."

"Jon told me what you guys would be doing in Georgia, not that I intend to burn down anything. It has to do with someone I was very close with in high school, before I met Jon and when I was still dating Joan." Edward took a deep breath. "Iris, I want to do something and set things right. Joan has a cousin who runs a video game and electronics company -"

"Competitron. Yes, I know," she answered patiently.

"So, my point is that I haven't seen him in years, not since Joan and I parted after graduation, and I want to see him again. I want him and Joan to both help get me out of this place. We were very close then, and I'd love to see him again. You never forget your girlfriend's relatives she actually was bonded with out of everyone else in her family - especially when they treat you like you ARE family."

~o~

Iris clutched the pen in her hand nervously as she waited for the line to pick up. Today really was so damn eventful that it wasn't even funny. First, she leaves Jonathan alone in her home - not that he ever planned to do anything he wasn't supposed to - and now she finds out that one of her fellow doctors is pregnant by one of her favorite patients even though they had a history. _What a day_ , she thought sarcastically. And now she was phoning the CEO of Competitron.

 _"This is Andrew Davis."_

"Mr. Davis," Iris began, regaining her cool. "I apologize for bothering you, but this is Dr. DeLaine, head of the Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane."

 _"I hope this hasn't anything to do with my sanity."_

She almost burst out laughing but didn't. "No, sir. This actually has to do with your cousin's boyfriend, Edward Nygma. One of my patients."

 _"Edward? How is he? Is he all right? Is Joan all right?"_

"They're both fine, sir. Your cousin and I have done everything we could. He's close to recovery and release, but he has no place outside of Arkham, and besides Dr. Leland - a dear, dear friend and colleague - you're his only family left," Iris answered. "I understand you haven't seen him in almost a decade -"

 _"Since high school ended, and we went separate ways,"_ the man answered, and she could almost picture him shaking his head. _"Eddie and I loved playing video games instead of doing anything else - but then I heard about what happened last year with the Batman. So, Doctor, what can I do to help?"_

Iris smiled; now they were getting somewhere. "If it won't be a problem, I would like you to come to the asylum. It's in the Narrows, but I promise I can arrange safe transport for you, if you wish."

 _"I can take care of myself, thank you very much."_

She laughed at the shot-back. "Well, then, I'll arrange for a meeting this Friday - two days from now, then. Good day, sir."

 _"And to you. And doctor? Thank you so much."_

"My pleasure, Mr. Davis," Iris answered with a smile, before hanging up. She uttered a shuddering sigh of relief. Things were now getting improved with Eddie - literally. There were no words for it, same with Jonathan, other than the fact that they were getting better places of residence instead of a halfway house like normal patients. And Jervis and Alice engaged…

But there was also Joan to think about. Iris remembered the terror in the other woman's eyes when she'd seen the terrible crossroad pink sign on the screen of the plastic stick, the fact that she didn't plan on having a baby at a time like this and with a _patient_ …and how would Edward react to the news that he was going to be a father?

Suddenly, the phone rang again, and she jumped in her chair, nearly screaming, and picked it up. "Dr. DeLaine."

 _"Is this my granddaughter I'm speaking to?"_

Iris laughed at the teasing, elderly voice tinged with a silvery edge. "Yes, Grandma, this is me. How you doing?"

 _"I'm very well, indeed,"_ Sylvia DeLaine responded in her lilting Russian-born accent. _"I was calling to see if you and Alice are still coming Saturday morning."_

It had been decided that the whole clan take the rest of the time before the wedding to stay at the mansion of Iris' paternal grandmother, and since she and her grandmother were very close while she'd been growing up, she was very excited to see her again. "Of course we are, Grandma. Not like we don't ever come when you invite us."

 _"Oh, it's not that. The thought just crossed my mind when you told me that interesting man of yours is now living with you."_

"Jonathan is coming with us," Iris said, wondering how he would receive her grandmother. Of course he would assume they were all the same given his own, but Sylvia had to get him to change his mind. Just because he had no respect for his didn't mean he would go around judging everyone else's grandmother.

Sylvia chuckled on the other line. _"I'd love to meet him, dear Iris. I've heard enough about him to know that. He sounds so much like your grandfather to me…independent, intelligent, handsome…"_

Iris heard the knock on her office door, then looked up at the clock and almost jumped again. It was time for therapy - this time being Harley Quinn. "Yes, listen, Grandma. I have to go; I have a therapy session now with a patient. We'll see you Saturday. Love you." She hung up the phone then and called for them to come in. In came a happily smiling Harley led in by a serious-looking male orderly. Just something she needed for more brightening of the day.

~o~

The lock to his cell door clicked open, and Edward rolled over on his side, blinking himself awake from his nap. He could just make out the figure in the white coat over a soft rose sweater and a tan skirt. Only one person he knew sometimes in soft, pale colors who couldn't be Iris. "Joan? What are you doing here? What time is it?"

"It's nearly three, and I'm on one of my breaks," she answered, turning to close the door behind her. "Edward, I have something to tell you." He sat up in his bed, eyeing her. Something was not right in the way she spoke to him; something was wrong, and he knew it. Joan was not usually so...timid. She was much tougher than that.

"What is it, my little riddle queen?" he asked, using the nickname he'd used to use for her before his commitment. He moved back to give her room to sit down on the foot of the bed, looking at him nervously.

"Eddie, I'm afraid," she whispered, voice soft and childlike…like a child who had been caught doing something naughty. "I should have been careful with you…all those times we were together…and now something has happened."

He looked into her eyes, seeing the tears in those soft brown orbs, his mind clicking altogether when the words knocked sense. Immediately he felt his bloodflow stop altogether, his heart threatening to leap into his chest. _A baby…_ "You're pregnant, aren't you?" Joan was going to have his child. The thought was very exciting and life-changing…and yet terrifying at the same time. She nodded, not speaking, but still looking terrified - at whatever he would tell her, no doubt. She had been afraid to learn his reaction. Well, honestly, he was a little angry at not making this safe and spare them both the burden of having to raise a child they couldn't take care of with the way things were now…but it happened anyway.

And what if this got out? She would lose her job, and who knows what would happen to him? Iris would be forced to do whatever it was that your average employer would do to avoid criticism for favoritism. He was about to speak more when the door opened again, and in walked a familiar face wearing a vivid blue sweater with a V-neckline and tight black pants. Iris stopped right in the doorway when she saw her newly pregnant coworker sitting with the father of her child. "Oh, um, I'm sorry to interrupt, but Eddie…I have someone here to see you."

He frowned. It couldn't be Jonathan, could it? And then in stepped a face he hadn't seen in so many years. The man, face uncanny to Joan with slicked dark hair and eyes, wore a pressed black business suit and a red tie over a white collar shirt, while the woman with him - his wife - had her normal flyaway black hair in a clip-up, her five-months' worth of fetal development shown through the wine-colored sweater dress.

"Eddie," Joan's cousin, Drew, managed, looking at him in a way he would as he hadn't seen him for a long time. And his wife, Rochelle, smiled warmly down at him despite meeting him only a couple times before. "And Joan, it's been a while."

"It has," she agreed. "Life does that to you."

"Hello, Drew," Edward answered, reclining awkwardly against the wall his bed was against. There was so much to catch up on, and some discussions to be made, it turned out.

~o~

Jonathan looked out the window of the SUV, enjoying the view of the forest and skies. How fitting that his best friend and Iris' sister were getting married on the first day of spring in a matter of days all the way out here beyond the Palisades. Beyond Wayne Manor, beyond DeLaine Manor…again, how fitting when there were three manors in this area that rhymed, and two of the same name. He had no idea why he was acting this way, but he couldn't help it one bit. Meeting with Iris' paternal grandmother wasn't something he'd been too jubilant about, and Iris was trying to do everything she could to calm him down as she drove the vehicle with him in the shotgun seat. "You _do_ know she isn't going to be like yours, right?"

He turned to look her over, taking in her simple, casual attire, the black shirt that hugged her arms and torso and accentuated her chest, and her favorite narrow black denims, smiling slightly. "You and her were close?"

"She was my rock, been there whenever she could to stop Maria." She nodded. "And she was a Russian dancer when she was young, something I took after her. She had time to train me." She chuckled. "She's still beautiful despite her age; you don't see that all the time. She and Grandpa were married a long time, but he died before I was born. I wish I knew him, sometimes, because Grandma always talked about how he had wanted to be there to see me born. He would have loved Alice, too." She brought the car to a stop as soon as it reached the end of the long driveway. "Here we are," she announced, not only to him, but to Alice and Jervis - who had been making out the whole time - in the backseat. Jonathan paid them no attention, though, instead looking upon the _other_ DeLaine Manor. The one currently owned by Sylvia DeLaine.

The manor was constructed from clean white stone, glowing brighter than the sun even on the gloomiest of days. Both levels of arched windows were supported by pillars, and not one part of the exterior was spared from complex, extravagant golden trimmings and ornaments. Iris locked the car doors - not the trunk - as soon as everyone was out, leading the way up the white steps of the grand porch to a pair of dark double doors that were opened for them by a man dressed in a black suit who nodded a greeting and smiled before helping them bring in their luggage. As soon as they were inside, Jonathan felt like the breath had been knocked out of him as he took in the majestic foyer - unlike Iris', Sylvia DeLaine's estate was a fine, not-too-money-well-spent version fuse of Russian and English influences. Warm golden panels dominated much of the doorways and the railings of the double-sided grand staircase, and the shiny marble floor was warm ivory overlapped with black crisscross designs similar to the lattice-work of a windowpane or a fence. Three arched windows between the two sets of stairs allowed the light of day to pour in and illuminate the dark panels of the walls and spark the floor to life, and reflected off the finely proportioned, early-19th-century Russian gilt-bronze chandelier overhead.

"My granddaughters," called a silvery voice from above, "finally came. And I see you brought your beaus."

"Grandma Sylvia!" Alice cried, happily rushing forward to the edge of the steps. Iris followed her in a flash, leaving Jonathan alone with Jervis beside him. She was a woman of elderly years, her physique matching Iris', with dark hair dominated pretty much with silver, and her dress was long emerald green satin lavishly overlaid with black sequin lace appliques, the train sweeping and also adorned with the same florals. She didn't hold a cane as she was still apparently strong, and her face - he could perfectly see Iris in her - had no wrinkles except for a decent amount on her neck. And the way she accepted her granddaughters in an embrace was something that Jonathan's grandmother never gave him.

"My little angels, I have missed you both." She looked up and gave the same smile that never seemed to leave her face as she beheld the sight of the two men. "And you've brought these fine gentlemen I've longed to meet." She walked past Iris and Alice and extended the hand that didn't hold the cane out. "Sylvia DeLaine."

Jonathan took her hand, noting the firmness of her handshake not unlike Iris'. When he did, he noted the unique flourishes of diamonds around a pear-shaped emerald on the forefinger. "I'm Jonathan Crane, Mrs. DeLaine, and this is Jervis Tetch."

"Ah yes," Sylvia murmured. "As I've heard the media call you…the Scarecrow. Not that I ever paid any mind to those media leeches who twist the truth and manipulate fact. So nice that my granddaughters have found their soulmates," she told them with a twitch of the corner of her mouth. _She doesn't care who I am,_ Jonathan realized with a smile of his own. Already he liked her. "Well, dinner is at five, but I'll let you be showed to your rooms by Joseph." As he walked past the older woman, he received a wink. "A pleasure meeting you, Dr. Crane," she told him quietly.

The hallway they walked down was reminiscent of the early twentieth-century Russia, under Czar Nicholas' reign before all went downhill for him and his family - the colorful paintings between panels of gold, the antique gold-and-crystal chandeliers attributed to St. Petersburg - but the number of doors didn't sum up to the amount Jonathan had seen in Iris' home. He was so busy looking around that he didn't see where Jervis and Alice went, nor did he notice when he arrived to his room. Or rather, his _and_ Iris' room.

Sylvia DeLaine was allowing her granddaughter to share a room with a man.

He sat down on the bed, sighing, and looked around as Iris did the honors of bringing in their luggage for them. Everything about the whole room was opulent but brighter than what they were both used to in general…and yet its simple red walls and everything in them provided the perfect atmosphere for what they felt for each other. Two white pillars rested at the foot of the bed, which was covered with luxurious red satin bordered with gold damask patterns, including two elegant nightstands of mango wood carved beautifully into swans, all sitting on a rich red rug crawling with golden vines and leaves. On the opposite wall, beyond the foot of the bed and the chair and storage bench, both filled with ruby velvet cushions, was a fireplace of sweet ivory marble, elaborate with an arch above and set with acanthus leaves, the top piece supported by smaller versions of the pillars before the end of the bed. Off to the opposite wall to his left was an off-white vanity with natural carvings of shells and acanthus, and a mirror complete with the same work as well as a matching wardrobe on the other end of the wall.

Iris' voice broke him out of his reverie. "I think we should unpack, don't you think?" she asked with a teasing smile.

He chuckled as he accepted his duffel bag filled with everything he knew he would need for the duration of the time they would be staying here until the wedding. "What else is there to do until five o'clock? We have only…" He looked up at the graceful antique wall clock next to the fireplace. "…two hours."

"Well, then…" Before he could have gotten a warning, Iris was removing her top, exposing her bare abdomen and her breasts covered by a bra of sumptuous dark blue satin with sheer mesh panels, the parallel scars on her breasts catching the light of the antique tiered crystal chandelier overhead. The action caused the lump - not the bad kind - to form in his throat, and Jonathan was unable to tear his eyes away from her while he unloaded his bag. He hadn't seen her this way since she was fourteen and assaulted by Mina Rosenberg and her gang, not since he treated her wounds and injuries that took months to heal. Then, she'd had more scars on her body than just where she had them now - surgeries after Maria died had to have been the solution. The ones on one of the sections of her femininity were all she'd left, and he thought it was attractive. "I'm going to take a bath first." He watched as she grabbed her robe she'd brought with her and headed through the door that was the bathroom. He noticed that other than some little bottles he couldn't make out, she didn't bring any of her home products with her - more like her hair tools - but her grandmother must've had some provided for their stay here. Jonathan wondered what his were. He just shrugged it off and went to unpacking his bag.

Almost thirty minutes had passed by when Iris didn't come out of the bathroom. He frowned as he wondered what was taking so long. Perhaps he could check in on her and see if she was still alive. He headed for the closed door and walked right on in, without knocking, because Iris didn't seem to mind the fact that he'd seen her that way eight years ago. He found himself in a bathroom of dreams, words doing this no justice as this was completely modern and nothing related to any exotic place in the world. Dark curtains on the only window in the room, behind the wall-attached, two-leveled bathtub, stood out against the warm golden ivory glow of the walls and floor, all of it a dream come true…except for the fact that Iris was leaning against the back rim of the tub, her back arched enough to show more of her breasts if not everything, her wet hair spilling out to let water drip madly onto the polished floor, left arm gripping the side rim, and her other deep under the foamed water to give away exactly what she was doing…the loud, needy moans she was making, her eyes closed tight…and the little hot pink tube off to the edge of the top step that he recognized as the warming version of _Intensify Arousal Gel…_

"Iris?" he choked out, unable to believe what he was seeing. His cheeks heated and flushed with embarrassment, and his stomach churned at the image of him doing that to her instead, to bring her to the edge of ecstasy…

She stopped what she was doing, and shrieked and bolted upwards in the tub, splashing water in places and knocking the little tube onto the floor in the process. It cluttered loudly as they locked eyes, hers filled with shame and his downcast slightly, trying to process the whole situation.

~o~

Iris felt tension as she sat beside Jonathan at the dinner table. Of course she felt his eyes take in her appearance, from her hair - which had been nourished and moisturized with a French hair product that left her hair revitalized and smelling of papaya, evening primrose, pomegranate, and coconut, as well as straightened and super shiny, flowing over her shoulders and covering her ears - to her dress of lustrous black silk with a V-neckline and brooches on the straps, the opal resting above her heart…but other than that, they didn't speak as much as she wanted to. It was her fault, after all, that she'd left the door unlocked. His bursting in, of course, was also unexpected. After he'd left the bathroom in an awkward silence, they didn't even make eye contact, much less speak to each other.

Jervis and Alice sat across from them, with Grandma Sylvia at the head as she always did because she owned the place. Alice had switched out of her dotted blue cardigan, white tank, and khaki skirt for a nicer dinner look, her hair remaining in its high ponytail but the dress she'd picked was light blue, with simple spaghetti straps and adorned with a lovely sequin pattern of butterflies and flowers. Jervis and Jonathan hadn't changed much out of their clothes from their collared shirts and jeans.

"Iris, dear, it seems you don't feel like speaking a lot like you always do," Sylvia said gently. Iris opened her mouth, but her grandmother laughed and waved it off. "Oh, never mind. Silly me. You're tired from the drive and getting settled in, that's all." She nodded to the cream and mushroom soup that had been placed in front of her like everyone else. "Been a long day, I understand. I won't force anyone to chit-chat on the first day. We have three more weeks to go to have fun. I bid all of you good night if anyone is finished."

Good nights being said, Iris left the bridal couple and raced Jonathan's way as soon as they reached their room. "Jonathan, please, wait." He stopped where he was, from opening the door, and frowned at her. "I owe you an apology for my behavior," she blurted out.

He raised an eyebrow at her for a moment in confusion, before it softened, and he chuckled deeply, opening the door for her. "Oh, that was nothing. I should have knocked first."

She gaped at him. He couldn't have possibly meant that - "No, really, it was -"

"Just practice," he interrupted with an understanding smile. "Believe me, Iris, I've done my fair share of masturbation before. It's a completely normal thing for a human being - it's…practice for the big game." Jonathan's tone became awkward. "Except the act itself is not a game. And, um…" He trailed off, breaking eye contact with her to look off to the side and at nothing in particular.

"Yes?" she pressed. He finally looked at her then.

"Except I wish I was the one to make you feel that way."

 **Vytina once had an Alice/Jervis story called "The Words I Need to Say", one of the few I remember everything word for word. It's rare I remember EVERY detail after a long period of time, but it had everything I could never forget. Especially when it came to Sylvia herself and the role she plays in her granddaughters' lives. :)**

 **Jonathan walking in on Iris masturbating in the bathtub came from the beginning of the fourth movie in the American Pie series, "American Reunion", and him explaining how normal it was stemmed from the main character's father giving him the talk in the first movie.**


	16. Girls' and Boys' Day Out

**I truly loved the importance of Sylvia DeLaine, and the complicated but wonderful story of her and her husband Andrey. In here, she is portrayed by the late Marilyn Burns, known as Sally in the original "Texas Chain Saw Massacre", later on Alexandra Daddario's grandmother in 2013's "Texas Chainsaw 3D". Burns passed away the following year, which happened to be a year after Henry Polic II (voice of Scarecrow in the 90s Batman animated series) whom Vytina and I mourned for awhile after, and my BTAS fic "Elizabeth and the Scarecrow" was made in honor of him.**

Chapter Fifteen

Girls' and Boys' Day Out

The phone was ringing, and Iris had made it clear that she wanted no calls unless it was an emergency. But it was Joan, who knew as well as she did. A lump formed in her throat as she wondered what kind of emergency it was...

Jonathan was propped up in the chair at the foot of the bed - not the storage bench - reading _The Legend of Sleepy Hollow_ when the phone rang _._ Iris stalked over to where her mobile rested on the edge of the vanity. "Joan, what's happening now?"

 _"I'm sorry, Iris, but nothing severe as a patient escaping,"_ the other woman said with a nervous laugh. _"I know you said emergency only, but I had to tell you this sooner while you were on leave..."_

Iris burst out laughing, turning her head round to see Jonathan's befuddled expression, eyes twinkling with amusement. She really had her going for a second even though it wasn't really laughable, but seriously, if a patient broke out, then she would be harassed by the Batman for all she knew. "Well, before I ask, our stay here is very much uneventful. But now back to the important matter: how are things at the asylum?" Before taking off, she'd put Joan in charge of the patients in her place until return.

 _"Oh, everyone misses you. Especially Edward. But my cousin and cousin-in-law, and their kids, have visited us a couple times since Friday. I'll admit it, I was surprised because I know they hadn't seen or spoken in years. There might be hope for Edward yet in the court's eyes. Drew and I haven't had much contact like we used to, but family's family."_

Iris smiled at the fact that things were improving as of lately. So many of her patients had been treated properly and reentered into society without any trouble - as far as she knew - most especially some of the Rogues gallery. But there were a handful that were on her list of doubt, most of all the Joker until his demise. "How about you?"

 _"I'm still feeling sick, but I'll live. It's been...unnerving for me, but Edward and I haven't had the chance to discuss the baby much."_ A muffled shout came from the background, followed by Joan's " _Hold your horses! I'm talking to Dr. DeLaine here; can't you see that?!"_ She grumbled something under her breath. _"I have to get back to business, Iris, but I'll try to handle something for you before your return."_

"And what is that?"

 _"To try to schedule a board meeting, the same way we did with Jonathan, and oversee that Eddie is released as soon as possible."_

Iris felt like screaming with joy at the suggestion…or rather, the possibility. How in the nine layers of hell was all of this happening? People would start saying that she was a fairy performing her magic and changing the "bad" people to "good". On second thought, Edward would have Joan to run home to, reconnect with his makeshift family, and continue his friendship with Jonathan. "Oh, that's wonderful," she said. "It would be great that Edward leaves Arkham the day we return." She had to say that so Jonathan would know what they were talking about. He was now regarding her with wide eyes and a slightly gaping mouth.

 _"Like I said, I'll see what I can do. Have a nice break, Iris."_

"I will, and send my regards to Drew and the family for me." Iris ended the connection with a big grin.

"Eddie's going to be released?" Jonathan asked, his voice lowered to the point of a whisper that was meant to be disbelief and yet exhilaration. Iris leaned back against the edge of the bed, smirking.

"You made it possible. Now it's Eddie's turn."

~o~

Spending time with Sylvia DeLaine was nothing like Jonathan had imagined it would be. Then again, not all grandparents were the same. Tell that to his dead grandmother. But Iris' grandmother was a gentle, pleasant woman who still bore the same air of fire and determination that had been passed on to her granddaughter through her father, Marcus DeLaine. It appeared, also, that grandparents tended to love their grandchildren more than their own offspring.

Now he sat with the love of his life sprawled up against him, both of them reading _The Legend of Sleepy Hollow_ together, her arms wrapped around his waist as he read it aloud to her as though they were still in school, and he was the teacher again. The dress she wore since this morning was racy black leather - clinging to every part of her body - the halter ending in a collar around her neck and bringing her breasts together to show plump at the neck, and the skirt ending mid-thigh. Her favorite heeled boots rested on her feet and hugged her calves. She looked up at him every now and then, batting her eyelashes in an innocent yet seductive manner, and it roused him. Her dark yet sensual aura stood out against the pallid, innocent background that was the sitting room of the manor: taupe curtains were pulled back to the sides of the arched windows to allow more sunlight. Lush green fern plants and trees rested in almost every corner and on a few tables, the floor being plain light brown wood interrupted with a carpet similar to the Persian one of Iris' home, except with more damask patterns in tan and soft brown. The sofa they sat on was also soft taupe, with warm damask pillows, to provide warmth and welcome. Iris sighed and leaned against his chest. Smiling, Jonathan stopped reading and closed the book to bring her closer to him. "Despite all these years of us being together despite many obstacles, I can't think of anything to say…" he murmured. Iris opened her mouth to reply when there was a soft voice from the entrance.

"So lovely to see a young couple in lover's embrace," Sylvia said, stepping in gracefully. She was dressed in an old-fashioned dress of ivory lace, the sleeves and bodice in peasant style, and a studded belt around the waist, and her curling silver hair fell over both shoulders, covering her ears. Jonathan smiled at the wonderful older woman he easily accepted, whose granddaughter moved over so her grandmother sat on the other side, and then her eyes fell to the book in their hands. "Ahhh, Washington Irving. A man of mystery and depth to the negative side of human nature. Your father loved his works, but unfortunately..."

"Mother was not," Iris finished.

"My own grandmother never picked up a book in her lifetime," Jonathan agreed. "She said they were against God, even accused me of doing things I shouldn't from certain types of books, such as James Joyce."

"Both women were fools," Sylvia said, shaking her head. "I knew Maria would never be part of my family, but my son was a weak-minded fool to let his little head go over the big one." She laughed lightly, but both her granddaughter and Jonathan himself laughed harder than she. Then the topic changed quickly as it began once everyone calmed down. "Ah…you taught her at the university, no?" Sylvia questioned Jonathan. "Then placed her after you at the asylum?"

Jonathan nodded; he wasn't surprised that Iris told her grandmother this information. "I did, yes. And I taught her well. She was my greatest student, and the best thing that's ever happened to me in all my miserable life." He placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"He wasn't just my mentor and employer," she said. "He is my best friend. Besides having a best friend from college - his first and only real one as Alice was and still is to me - but he was also criticized for his 'crazy' theories. As I got to know him, I knew it from the start that he was not insane. He expanded my knowledge of his passions, opened up doors to wonders I never knew could exist." The way this woman spoke of his passions lifted his softening heart. He leaned down and brought her lips to his for a harder, more passionate kiss. Sylvia watched them in silence for a moment, a faint smile tugging her lips.

"You two are nothing that everyone spot at any day, any time. As a matter of fact, I also think you two, Alice and Jervis ought to spend the day together today, no? Be good for all four of you to get out of the house for a lunch date or something? Do some shopping for the engagement party I have set up in a few days?"

Jonathan's mind dinged with the idea light bulb. "And I know just the place..."

~o~

Alice looked around the warm rose-golden stone walls and low, vaulted wooden ceiling of the place that they were currently in, her eyes wide like a child's. She wore a lilac floral blouse paired with a pair of cheery cornflower blue leggings, clutching Jervis' arm, who was in a blue collar shirt and jeans. "Italian restaurant, really? Iris, I don't know how on earth you and Grandma could ever consider this -"

"It's not just any Italian restaurant, sister dear," Iris said calmly, also holding Jonathan's arm. She hadn't changed out of her dress at all before they arrives, just instead put her hair in a simple, elegant bun behind her head, and to show off her opal-and-Swarovski-crystal earrings. "It's the _Villa D'Amore._ And Jonathan and I have been here before, when he still ran Arkham. Took me on a lunch date during the day a few times."

~o~

 _4 years ago…_

 _Villa D'Amore_ had a stunning welcoming entrance - draped with ivy vines and grapes - that created a relaxed yet mysterious ambiance. It was one of the most authentic Italian restaurants that stood out from the rest with its unique dinners, lunches and desserts. The influences of Greece were clearly seen in the pillars and mosaic patterns throughout. Iris looked around with amazement; this was her favorite restaurant, and turned out to be Jonathan's. This had been discovered only last year when he first brought her here twice before for their lunch breaks. It was located on the other side of Gotham, isolated from much of Gotham - for a more private, romantic effect, she'd imagined.

Jonathan helped her into her seat at one of the mosaic tables beside the pillars of the interior section. She was wearing a white blouse with a black damask print and skirt, hair down her back, covering her ears. She smiled across the table at Jonathan, who had sat down in the seat across from her after draping his black suit jacket on the back of the chair to show a tan vest over his crisp white shirt and red tie…but he didn't smile back at her. And she knew why. "The ungrateful bitch bothering you again?" she asked of Assistant District Attorney Rachel Dawes.

He snorted as he picked up his menu. "Of course. About the Michaels case, _again_."

Iris scowled. "Obviously." She had first met the uptight ADA back when she'd first got her job at Arkham, but the two women never got along. Miss Dawes was a proud, arrogant woman who disrespected those around her, especially Jonathan. In fact, she looked at Iris as his "dog" who tagged along willingly. She accused both Jonathan and Iris of interfering with justice, declaring her perps insane and sending them to "comfortable rehabilitation" instead of rotting behind bars - truth was that jail did not help the perpetrator. Jail served only to toss aside and lock the dirt bags without actually digging deeper for more; Arkham gave her and Jonathan the opportunity to explore the mind and motivations of that criminal, something university tried to deprive of them.

No day went by that Iris didn't wish for her to be out of the picture. Except for the fact that Dawes was insufferable enough as it was, she didn't really do anything to them. But why couldn't she just keep her piggy nose out of where it didn't belong?

"But let's just put her aside for this hour and have some time to ourselves?" she asked, reaching across the table to put a hand on his, the one that laid on the colorful surface.

Jonathan lowered his menu to peer over at her and gave her a little grin. "Why else did we come here for?"

~o~

 _Today_

Alice looked around the boutique, eyes wider than the skies they matched in terms of color. "Iris… _this_ is where we're going to be shopping for a new dress?" The store was known as _Amorette's,_ filled with assorted party and public event gowns and dresses from every country, ranging from bridal to prom to evening wear.

"Absolutely," Iris said, smiling broadly. "It's the best option for my sister's engagement party."

Alice followed the dark-haired woman through the store aisles, taking in the warm glow on the white walls, floor, and furniture pieces from the overhead five-armed golden chandelier. Hanging on racks and lined up were various colored formal dresses, from short to long, to mermaid to full skirt, and so on. Thinking about trying on who-knew-how-many of these things made her wonder about the guys who were still in the car after the fine food at the _Villa D'Amore._ "You think the guys are okay? If they wonder what's taking us so long…"

Iris laughed and brushed it off with a wave of her hand. "Oh, you know how guys are, sis. They'll live. They'll always find ways of entertaining themselves - or each other." She wasted no time in darting for the nearest rack. "Now let's see here…"

~o~

Jonathan groaned as he closed his laptop in his lap, given by Jervis as a gift upon leaving Arkham. He had been job hunting - if until the girls were done with their fun - when his patience finally wore off. He had eventually found a promising job - librarian - when he closed the computer and sighed aloud to Jervis, who sat in the back behind him. "When do you think the girls are going to be finished?"

"Hmm?" The blond looked up from his copy of _Alice in Wonderland._

"I said, when do you think Iris and Alice are going to be finished?"

"Wish I knew, March." Jervis shrugged. "You know how women are with shopping. They take as long as they wish. Very important they look their best."

"I remember Iris being that way whenever Arkham's finest were invited to those ghastly charities and fundraisers we were forced to attend. While those things meant nothing to me but to fund my research then, it was always her who was the highlight of my night, but it was more her face and everything about her more than her clothes…" Saying that made him remember what she looked like under those articles of clothing she always insisted on wearing, hiding what she bore on her body and revealing alike - she had changed from the scarred, gangly, nearly skeletal structure of the fourteen-year-old girl ravaged mercilessly by drunken jocks and frat boys, and her own mother, to still slender but more curves of a woman with no scars but those on her breasts.

Sudden sounds of laughter alerted him right away, and he jerked forward to the open window next to him, Jervis following his gaze. The ladies came out of there, carrying each a bundle in their arms. "Iris, do you think Jervis will like my dress?" they heard Alice ask, to which Jervis scoffed and shook his head.

"I couldn't care less what she wears," he whispered to Jonathan. "What matters is that she's beautiful as a flower." Then he let out a grunt of surprise when Alice jumped into the backseat and tossed both bundles on his lap.

"Be the gentleman and carry those into the house when we get back?" Alice asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him. Jonathan frowned; this was sheer laziness, letting the man do the work unwillingly. A real gentleman would do the offering himself. But Jervis smiled shyly and accepted a peck on the cheek.

Iris started the engine, and this was when Jonathan decided to have a little fun. "Can I see you in your dress when we get back?"

She gave him a crooked smirk. "Not until the night that comes."

 **Iris had literally made it a shopping experience in "The Words" that Alice would never forget. XD I love shopping myself. And the poor guys having to wait and be tortured.**


	17. What a Wonderful World

**In this chapter, we finally begin to learn more about Sylvia and her late husband that Jonathan learns himself, paralleled to the original in "The Words" as well as to Alice's own backdrop involving her gold-digging mother. :) Everything is leading up to the next stage in his and Iris' relationship.**

 **The chapter is titled after a famous song, which you will see very soon. This is Sarah Brightman's version, from her album "Harem".**

Chapter Sixteen

What a Wonderful World

The day had finally come, and Iris now stood with Alice in her bedroom that she shared with Jervis, which differed completely in style from the one her and Jonathan shared, which the couple seemed to be okay with. Dominated by a massive dark canopy bed covered with old-fashioned Chenille bedding, the walls were adorned with a few nineteenth-century pictures of English ships embroidered with wool thread known as "sailor's wools." An American tambour desk - an old-fashioned desk with desktop drawers - made in New England in the early nineteenth-century, completed the room's less formal atmosphere. Both women stood before the bed, their dresses for the event lying across the comforter, displayed in all their eagerness. Alice swallowed hard. "This is it."

"Yes, it is, sis," Iris said, reaching to finger the sash of her robe, not opening it as she had nothing on underneath. "This is your big night…just a couple nights before the literal big day." She turned to look at her with a grin. "Are you excited?"

"Oh, I'm very happy." Alice walked over to where her gown lay, running her fingers over the soft blue fabric. "Help me in?" she questioned.

The party didn't start until one hour, but they were done in less than twenty minutes. Alice's took the longest because she had more lacing in the back than Iris' did in the front, and she had to make sure her sister didn't suffocate at her engagement party. "All done," Iris announced as soon as she was finished. "All we need is the final touches."

By the time they were finished with their makeup, they both gasped in amazement at the work of art done to each other. Alice had never worn eye shadow before, but the metallic ocean blue powder around her eyes made them pop out more than they did, making them the most noticeable part of her face. Her lips were painted a soft, stunning shade of pink, giving them a natural shimmer that captured the tiniest flicker of light. Her hair had been curled and held to the back of her head, exposing the back of her neck, with white flower pins stuck in to add more style but not too much; stunning vintage diamond and pearl earrings hung from her ears. Finishing the look was the pendant Jervis gave her, that elegant asymmetrical design accented with tanzanite.

Iris, on the other hand, was simpler than she was, as the darkness around her eyes made it difficult to discern as to whether she wore eye liner or not, and her naturally dark rose lips were glossed to a shine. Her own raven waves were left to tumble by themselves, accented by a beautifully crafted circlet of Celtic swirls, created with a genuine tanzanite and four peridots. Some of her hair was tucked behind her ears to show mystic topaz studs in the lobes.

The two women had done many things to make themselves presentable, but this literally hit the spot: this was who and what they were. Who they really were. Both were blossoms that bloomed late, the most rare and beautiful. One was a rose that had a warm inside as she did out, the other an iris with a cold exterior and a warm heart. This was the way that their men loved them. Iris smiled for a moment, before it completely disappeared as an embarrassing, humiliating memory came back to her, out of the blue. She bowed her head to Alice wouldn't see, except she did. "Iris, what's the matter?"

"Well…" This sort of thing was embarrassing to tell a family member, but Alice was her sister, and they shared everything. "Okay, this is hard to say, but - but on the day we got here, and I went to take a bath, I, um…you know, got out that stuff you got me on my last birthday and…" She trailed off, feeling her cheeks blush and heat madly.

Understanding lit up in Alice's blue eyes. "Oh, I see." And then realization replaced it in a matter of seconds. "Wait, you mean Jonathan -"

"Walked in on me," Iris confessed, guilty. "You can imagine how terrible I felt. Even when he told me that even though this was normal for a human being, he wished he…" She swallowed hard. "…made me feel that way."

Her sister's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth, but then there was a soft chuckle of amusement at the door. Both girls turned their heads to see Sylvia standing there in a dark blue velvet dress with black bead decorations at the full hem. Her fair face was reddened slightly from trying to hold in her laughter. Immediately, Iris felt like she was going to wither and die like the flower of her name. But Sylvia gave her a look of understanding. "My girls, the both of you look extravagant. Your men are going to fall off the stairs tonight."

~o~

Jonathan found Jervis standing beside the refreshment bar, sipping his wine as if in thought. He considered joining him, as it had been so long since he'd had a real drink because of course seeing as this was his best friend and said friend's fiancée's night tonight, perhaps he could have one or two before the girls arrived, as a cheers for the big day which was not far away.

Jervis was in a black signature suit and white shirt like he was, except he wore a light blue satin striped tie while Jonathan's was mossy green. He handed Jonathan a cut-crystal champagne flute from the table - which was long and set with a diamond patterned white tablecloth and damask-printed table runner and tall pieces of crystal globes filled with lit candles - as though reading his mind. "Jon, do you know where the ladies are?" he asked, looking around. "The party's going to start soon."

"I'm not sure…" Jonathan admitted, looking around, too. "I'd say they were still getting ready." _Of course,_ he thought. _Women take longer than us men to get ready for these things._

"Not anymore." Jervis was no longer looking around, but rather looking past Jonathan's shoulder, and Jonathan followed his gaze…to the top of the staircase. He thought he was going to drop his first and only glass that night.

Alice and Iris stood at the top of the staircase, Sylvia right behind them as to make the attention all on her two granddaughters, except she looked remarkable in her old-fashioned blue velvet dress. There was the lady of the hour herself in a waterfall-colored dress that flowed beautifully in an asymmetrical wave. Her hair was pinned up, curled and accented with little white flowers. There were no sleeves so that her arms and shoulders were left bared. The tanzanite necklace from Jervis bumped lightly over her heart. He heard Jervis suck in a deep breath as he took in the sight.

Iris was different story altogether, as usual. There she was in velvet at its most alluring. The black velvet dress flowed at the waist and bodice with a full-length panel of iridescent blue velvet from the neck to the hem. Her hair, curled thicker than usual, was glossed to a natural shine and accented with a mystical circlet on her forehead. She was… _beautiful_. Both moved down the staircase with their grandmother tailing. Sylvia gave both Jonathan and Jervis a smile of amusement at their expressions. "Aren't they absolutely magnificent, gentlemen?"

Jonathan blinked and swallowed, regaining his composure as he had been too busy taking in the sight of his beautiful Iris before him. "You both look…beautiful," he said, unable to pull himself together.

"Indeed, absolutely stunning," Jervis breathed. He held out his arm for his bride-to-be, which she accepted with a flirty smile, leaning up to press her lips against his in an innocent yet suggestive manner, which brought out a chuckle from her grandmother. Their descent into the grand dining room for the dinner before dancing in the dance room left Jonathan before Iris once more. He held his own arm out for her.

"Shall we?" The moment she laid her hand on his arm, she leaned in and gave him a tender peck on the cheek. It was then that he smelled something entirely different off of her - a luscious floral completely separate from the one she would wear back home on a special occasion and her favorite perfume. This was of amber and rich woods…to bring her femininity to a huskier level.

The dinner table had been decorated to corporate with the style of the party, having being hung with various crystal chandeliers in a straight line down from one table end to the other, illuminating the shimmering white tablecloth underneath the crystal candelabra and Sylvia's fine English rose china. After that and fine courses from the selected menu, everyone filed out for the dance room. This wasn't as lavish as the Egyptian-inspired ballroom of the other DeLaine Manor, but nevertheless, it was beautiful in every way. The walls were graceful and white, carved similar to baroque times, the ceiling hung with five chandeliers of countless crystals of clear and ice-blue. It was then that Jonathan heard the song that was beginning to play for the guests - namely the couple of the night - and he wordlessly and gently maneuvered Iris to the middle of the floor so that they were near Jervis and Alice, getting into the traditional dance positions and beginning the slow dance on the rich blue carpeting.

 _I see trees of green, red roses too_

 _I see them bloom for me and you_

 _And I think to myself, what a wonderful world_

 _I see skies of blue and clouds of white_

 _The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night_

 _And I think to myself, what a wonderful world_

 _The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky_

 _Are also on the faces of people going by_

 _I see friends shakin' hands, sayin' "How do you do?"_

 _They're really saying "I love you"_

It was then that Iris pulled him away from the dance floor and towards one of the curtained doors. This puzzled Jonathan, until she opened the door so that they were outdoors, on the porch facing the gardens. The stone-white stairs were seven-tiered, the first resting under their feet and the silvery white columns - the work of the moon overhead - supporting the roof above their heads, some draped with roses of pearlescent blush and a dark green foliage, giving off a powerfully sweet aroma in the air. Before his eyes was an arched trellis between the clearing of Russian elm trees and small evergreens, with more climbing roses and dark green foliage - huge, romantic red blooms with fragrant, velvety petals based on the shimmer casted from the moonlight, and pure white ones - where he glimpsed a pathway that would lead out to a garden of more roses. Again, it wasn't as lavish as the one at Iris' estate, but it was beautiful nevertheless.

He looked to his side to see Iris lean her back against one of the pillars, slipping off her heeled sandals, giving him a little grin…a mischievous grin. And he knew what she was thinking.

As it turned out, Sylvia DeLaine's rose garden wasn't as vast, but it was surrounded by woodland acres and filled with hundreds of thousands of roses, their colors ranging from dark red capturing the essence of romance with its full-blooming velvety petals and intense tea scent, to satiny pink with a milder tea rose fragrance, to super-sweet yellow ones that would have glowed as brightly as the sun if it was daylight, and gardenia-scented ones as white as the moon. In the center of the garden was a gazebo, shimmering white and a little more along the lines of old-fashioned than the Temple of Love, with a fading triangular rooftop and latticed poles. Resting before it was a small pond centered with a spraying fountain, surrounded by more red roses. Yet none of it mattered to Jonathan but the girl in front of him, her flowing mane of hair as black as the sky above giving off streaks from the silver orb in it. She pressed herself up against him, her sapphire eyes tinted by the ethereal glow overhead. "It's the full moon," she whispered. "Kiss me, Jonathan."

And he did, savoring the sugary taste and silken feel of her lips, placing his hands on her waist and pulling her close. He felt her arms wrap around his neck and bring him down further for more contact. It was a truly wonderful moment, far better and more realistic than the lovey-dovey romance the media and literature portrayed. This was not only the intense desire he had felt since she was a teenager, but also the love for who and what she was. She was as broken and passionate and renewed as he was.

Unfortunately, it had to end, because there was a call of "Iris! Jonathan! Are you alive out there?" Iris laughed at her grandmother's voice despite the fact that they'd unwillingly parted for that.

"Yes, Grandma," she returned. "We're out here."

"If you two are done out there making passionate lip-locking…" Sylvia's tone clipped humorously. "…then come right back to the party. Your sister is looking for you."

An exasperated sigh escaped Iris' lips as she looked back up at Jonathan. "I suppose we better get back."

"Yes, we should," Jonathan agreed. When they returned to the place they'd left, they found Sylvia standing there, an amused twinkle in her eyes. Jonathan knew what she was thinking. "Oh, no, Sylvia, nothing inappropriate happened, I assure you."

"I never suspected anything of the sort," she replied. "Iris dear, why don't you get back to the party while I have a word with your fine young man here?"

"Certainly, Grandma." Iris gave Jonathan a quick kiss on the cheek before walking up to her grandmother and doing the same before disappearing behind her. He watched her go, then looked up to see the elder woman smiling at him and gesturing for him to follow her.

"May I ask what you wish to speak to me about?" Jonathan questioned as they walked up the staircase. Sylvia looked over her shoulder with a little smile.

"I wish to tell you a story, a story that I told the girls and Jervis but never had the chance for you. A story about my late husband Andrey who left me before Iris was even born."

They had reached the master bedroom where the matriarch slept at night. It was a European retro-style, modern and old-age combined, and it was as "antique in good shape" as the woman who slept in it. The tiles of the floor were of the royal parquet wood that the French would put in the Versailles palace, whilst the taupe walls were sported different shades of it in the form of large damask patterns. Navy curtains ornamented with gold pieces draped the long window, currently drawn closed over the window, but the room was lit up by the overhead chandelier of clear and red crystals. The bed set was designed to fit the royalty theme. With antique white finish and a beautiful hardwood, intricate gold details creating a classically relaxed atmosphere, the bed had carved details and red velvet finished headboard, and carved overlay molding on both the headboard and footboard. A comforter of large magnolias and colors of red, white, and green graced the bed. Jonathan sat down at the foot of the bed and watched as the elder woman sat down beside him and began her story.

"I was seventeen when I met Andrey DeLaine. He was a member of the business in the Soviet Union, but life in Russia was difficult. Difficult enough that my parents wanted me to marry a man who would ensure our survival. As you can see, my life was not that much different from Alice's in that department. Nevertheless, I was determined to get away from my family and establish an identity for myself, but when I was that young at the time, I had not thought much of it. Andrey was ten years my senior, but it didn't matter to me because he treated me like a human being and not like the puppet that my parents - specifically my mother - always treated me. He was my best friend."

Jonathan felt his insides melt as he now learned this magnificent woman had been through more than anyone else knew. "You loved him all along even though you were still young," he stated gently. "When did you realize your feelings were real and not silly?"

Sylvia laughed lightly. "When I was twenty-three, same as Iris is now. But during those six years, even after I finished schooling which doubled my working hours, I had been trying to find a man to make my parents happy - someone with higher class, but to no avail. But before it was Andrey and myself, I had found someone who hadn't satisfied my parents even though I had somehow been drawn to him. His name was Victor, and he was very handsome - an American, no less, who had been in Russia studying for some time. We were together for two years before it ended, and he went back to New York following that. It was also due to my mother's mad ranting that he was not deserving of me, and Andrey was there for me by the time I had enough of her and my father. Aside from that, his company was collapsing that he was determined to leave Russia for good to go to America himself to start anew -" Her eyes were shining bright with tears of happiness. "- and he asked me to go with him."

Jonathan smiled. "Somehow I knew that was coming."

"And no sooner had I agreed, he knelt before me and asked me to marry him - and in front of my disapproving parents." She paused there as though feeling her innards tighten as she had that day. "They disowned me right there, said I was a disgrace, but it no longer mattered to me. They were never my family."

She reached over to the nightstand, picking up the picture framed in antique brass, showing a timeless-looking tinted photograph of her and her late husband, his handsome face framed by waves of dark hair like himself, his bride beside him in a beautiful lace dress centered on Bohemian. The neckline plunged slightly, the sleeves poet illusion flaring over her arms, and the train flared like a calla lily. Her long dark curls were loose like her youngest granddaughter's, whilst her forehead was accented with a sharp, unique circlet. Sylvia was a beauty then as she was now that Jonathan still saw Iris in her - and he tried to picture himself and her in her grandparents' place in the photograph.

"Sylvia," he managed, looking back up at her, "I had wondered how you would be before we met. My grandmother wasn't the one that you are, and all my life I had been raised to believe I was worth nothing more than an abomination, a freak in God's eyes, not worth to love..."

Sylvia silenced him by putting a hand under his chin tenderly, the loving gesture making him close his eyes. "Sssh, my darling boy, some of us are not so fortunate - yet we always have to find means to escape, as Andrey and I have. When we came to New York, he established his own company there, while I became a Russian ballet dancer. Not long after that, our first and only son, Marcus, was born - Iris' father. The point I'm making is that you spent your life being shackled by hatred until you broke free. You found someone who makes your life worth for all it is, despite those around you looking at you in a manner that makes you small. I was not that different. My granddaughter loves you - her own mother was a monster that I tried to protect her from, but Maria always threatened to have her secret ways to get rid of me and leave the child alone - and you love her."

"I do," Jonathan choked out, cursing his unmanliness. "You're absolutely right. She was my best student, but she was actually more than that. She was the only person who wanted me, because I was all she had. She was the only good thing in my life, and she didn't reject me, toss me away just like everyone else did. She wanted me, she needed me…and she _loves_ me."

"My point, once more, yes. I should have chosen duty above true love, but I did not. It was not easy, but it was worth it. What you lose, you gain in return. My husband was worth it all as Iris is to you - do not let her go, Jonathan, that is all I have to say to you. I have explained this to Alice, and look at her and Jervis in a couple more days to come. You and Iris might not be ready for that stage yet, but you had better make your next best days count..."

 _She's right. I lost my years of research and hard work…but I gained the only woman in my life,_ Jonathan thought, feeling his mouth turn upwards on both corners. He nodded as he stood from the edge of the bed. "Thank you, Sylvia." And for that he left the room in a flash, dashing down the hall until he reached his and Iris' room. He didn't stop until he reached that door. His head was racing, his stomach burning as the story etched into his brain. Everything Sylvia spoke about her late husband made him rethink of Iris and himself. There was no time to think this over because he _knew_ what he was feeling. Iris was his and only his, and he loved AND desired her greatly. He couldn't fight this off anymore. It had been over a decade since _it_ happened to him, but he couldn't let that monster in his memory win the battle in weakening him and ruining his chances with the woman he had grown to love.

As soon as he got himself together, the moment he opened the door, he got a surprise.

The lights were all out, except the room had been lit with candles flickering about, from both nightstands beside the bed to the vanity, shadows dancing upon the walls, the air filled with various aromas ranging from midnight jasmines to give the magic of a midsummer's night's dream, apple cider to spice it up, fresh cut roses to sweeten it, and that of a Bahaman breeze to create the shivers of anticipation. The covers of the bed were drawn back to show exquisite ruby red sheets, and for the figure laying on her side in a suggestive manner. She looked up at him, her eyes hooded with dark desire, then the right side of her lip lifted into a half-smirk as she lifted her left hand from her side to the neck of her black robe, drawing it down to show a bra of dark fuchsia overlaid with black lace…tempting him, luring him into her embrace. He could feel the heat build up in his lower stomach as he began to approach the bed, closing the door behind him and locking it.

His dark angel was calling for him at last.

~o~

He leaned over her, a figure in black and white - his jacket discarded, leaving him in his white shirt and green tie, which would soon be loosened - with a face devoid of all expression except for a devilish smile forming on his angelic face. And his eyes were all but…blue and cold as the winter's frost. "How long have you been waiting for me?" he whispered, reaching up to loosen his tie from its knot but leaving it around his neck. He then brought that hand down to pull her robe open further to show a low-rise thong of black lace while at the same time she reached up to pull his tie off from around his neck.

"Forever…" she answered breathlessly. "Since the first moment I saw you…"

His thumb had been running over her bottom lip as she spoke. She gently pressed a kiss to the point, and the languid, building desire in his blues was building, silently telling her that she was coaxing out his desire for her. She looked up at him with her own blue orbs, telling him that she, too, needed him.

Her black-tipped fingers fumbled with the buttons of his collar shirt, all the way down to the end, and opened it to expose plains of pale flesh marred by scars from years of abuse, visible ribs, a leanly muscled chest, and a slightly in-curving stomach with what she'd imagined was there - a barely-there six-pack. The dancing flames of the candles highlighted every curve and contour of his body.

"Jonathan…"

His lips lowered to hers, hands gripping her hips in the way she'd dreamed before unhappily awaking in her office near the end of that day, curling in his fingers to leave dark bruises on her skin. But it didn't hurt much, and she didn't think she so much as winced, but released a growling moan that matched that of his mouth. She felt him push her robe off her shoulders and tried to slide it off her, but her body was pressed against the bed. She aided by lifting off her back to let him finish, pulling the sheer silk off her arms and discarding it to the floor beside the bed. Her hands came up to grasp his shoulders, nails digging in and nearly scratching and tearing the pure yet marred flesh. He hissed gently when she drew blood. He didn't like it; he _loved_ it.

"God, Iris," he murmured. "This is more than I anticipated. I have never in my life imagined something this wonderful igniting a fire so _extraordinarily powerful_." He had been so close to her ear that it sent shivers down to the breast in that direction. She giggled.

"Am I really that much of a tease then, _Jonathan_?" she drawled.

He traced a finger over the black-and-fuchsia lace that still covered her breast. "You always have been. You knew this was going to happen tonight, but you decided to surprise me, didn't you?" His voice was a magnificent hiss, as though Scarecrow was threatening to resurface. "I remember when I saw you when you were barely fifteen years old and I healed your wounds that night. To see your bare, vulnerable body made my own feel a certain way it had not in a long time since..." He stopped himself there; they both knew exactly what he meant that was best left unsaid. He leaned down to press a kiss between the valley of her breasts, his tongue sweeping over each scar curving downward to the inside. "I love these scars, not compared to the ones still on my back and lower."

Iris gasped sharply as she felt his narrow, lithe body between her thighs, his clothed groin thrusting and grinding against hers with no mercy. The slick, tailored material of his pants and the rough lace of her underwear created burning erosion; she felt the rigid heat of his length as it strained behind his pants. Her body was screaming to the high heavens for more of it. This was the most erotic thing she'd ever felt in her life and wildly out of sync with all her fantasies. All those times - day and night - she'd spent in her bed with her hidden "tools" of the line named after the age-old Indian sex book, exploring and exciting her body with her hands and the potions, seeing his face, hearing his voice and feeling the touch of his lips and hands…nothing was compared to this.

"Feel what you've done to me all these years?" Jonathan growled seductively, grinding one more time against her. The sensitive skin beneath the hard lace and curls throbbed intensely with pleasure.

"Oh, yes, I do!" she gasped, closing her eyes and moaning when he rubbed himself against her. Just to play with him, she reached to pull her thong down to show herself to him, but he caught that naughty hand with his, giving her a warning look. " Well, if you don't want me to touch myself there, do it yourself. I did the work all those years - now it's your turn." She grinned at his look of surprise and brought him down to kiss him, hand on the back of his head and woving through his groomed raven waves, swallowing his groan and accepting the fruit of passion. "I don't need to say it, but I'm still your first."

"Iris…" He threw his head back and let out a guttural groan that clearly said he was taking her innocence and purity and turning it into something frenzied and passionate. "You really shouldn't have said it so shamelessly. The beast within me is ready to take your innocence now."

And that was what she wanted all along, for him to take her and make her his. She'd waited long enough. He snarled in triumph and reared his head back with the grace of a snake and lunged forward, sinking his teeth into her neck, biting the soft, delicate flesh, bringing a thick swell of blood to the surface. That was going to leave a bruise that would exist for less than a month but more than a week. His mark reminded her that she was his and his only. She shrieked out in the most _exquisite_ pain and pleasure. This behavior was not the man who had been her professor of psychology at GSU, nor was he the quiet, angry and lost youth sexually abused by his own professor, or the arrogant, cocky former director of Arkham Asylum...he was a creature of long-locked desire released from its cage.

She stretched her arms over her head so that she was grasping the headboard, turning her eyes downward to where her breasts were walled away from full contact of his hands. Jonathan brought his hands to her hips, not grasping this time, and slid them feather lightly up her sides until they were cupping her breasts, massaging them firmly and teasing the hardening buds behind the lace. The garment was off without as much of unhooking the back. Her breasts, barely filling a B-cup, spilled out in a bounce before his dark, lustful gaze. An equally twisted small graced his full lips. "These say it all," he purred, the manic gleam in his eyes still there. His mouth locked to her left breast, teeth shocking her nipple while his hand squeezed its partner and the top. She whimpered and moaned, her arms still stretched over her head as this omnipotent, beautiful man enraptured her with his mouth. Her blood burned because his mouth lit her skin and sent it through her nerve channels, bringing her to life like a star going into supernova. She looked down as she felt him pull down her underwear - the last piece of clothing on her - and yanked them off from around her feet so that it was in the same pile beside the bed.

Jonathan groaned as he looked her over, his gaze making her shrink a little - from the soft swells of her breasts to her hips and waist that were subtle woman defines now, no longer jutting shards of bones, and to her parted legs lean as a horse's. "Still eager to take my virtue, my darling Master of Fear?"

He grunted, running his hands along her sides, over her hips, up her waist, and up again to her breasts again, and down again. "Oh, you have no idea, Iris…you're even more beautiful than I remember you…"

His hands drifted down to caress her thighs - earlier she had shaved so that her skin was left for his touch, silky, smooth and ready for love, with the refreshing scent of sweet pomegranates - leaning his head forward there at the same time. And then she felt it - something warm and moist invaded that uncharted territory that she refused to call by that vulgar name that was used to call the female anatomy. His tongue had slipped itself in there, lips tasting, to feel what he was doing to her - oh, God, all the things he was doing with his mouth was more than she'd fantasized and _so good_ \- and how hot… _very_ hot…and so wet he'd made her. She could imagine a finger or two in there as she'd rehearsed herself numerous times, but his fingers would do a much better job than her own. She uttered a shuddering gasp as his tongue swept over her pearl, tasting it like he would the inside of a juicy red apple. The soft curls of her pubic hair rubbed against his nose, and it sent more shivers up her spine…and then some time which felt like minute passed, and she felt the building there, like she was about to release. She was going to come when they had so much to do first, to see each other orgasm in sheer bliss. "J-Jonathan!" she gasped.

"Mmm…?" He lifted his head from her spot, lips faintly shining from her nectar.

"Don't…want to stop yet…"

"Oh?" He delicately lifted an eyebrow and shifted himself up. "And why is that, my little flower?"

She grabbed his hand to bring his hand back to where he'd been mouthing her, him doing the thing of slipping in a finger to feel the molten heat that was still there. "I can't describe it…what you're doing to me…I want you inside me. I want to feel you in here - finish it off that way."

He smiled, his finger probing that wonderful spot. "My most beloved Iris…I most certainly will suffer heartbreak I leave you this way." He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of her neck. "I promise I will grant you the most powerful release of passion of all time…" A finger slipped in and began to circle while stretch her at the same time. A little pain was due to the fact her muscles didn't relax at first until she took a deep breath and willed herself to do it for him. No preparation meant the pain would be extreme, and they both knew that. As soon as he was finished preparing her, he withdrew his fingers from her. She moaned in disappointment at the loss of contact, but he only smirked as he reached down to undo his belt and button and flies, pushing his pants down to his knees along with his underwear. There she saw him for the first time, and words put that part of him to no shame. He was beautiful, with his need nestled thickly among such gangly limbs. Jonathan leaned back over her at the same time he brought himself back to the apex of her legs, telling her she was all his now and began to carefully penetrate her virgin spot. Iris let out a high-pitched shriek that could have broken through the walls and reached the ears of Grandma Sylvia, her sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law - but the pain did not last as he began to move in and out of her, sighing passionately and closing his eyes, enjoying it for himself while making her relax at the same time. He was now rubbing himself against her, doing more of those _things_ to her she'd only imagined in her wildest dreams, his whole package against her - everything from his manhood to his pubic region - and the rough texture of the dark hairs covering the latter part tingling a sensitive part of her in the process.

He claimed her and brought on the flames of love over them, the flickering candlelight around them intensifying those flames which had been the product of years of waiting, dreaming and abuse - in both their cases. But it had all been worth it, and no one was going to come and part them EVER.

~o~

Let's just say for short that things were getting better for Eddie ever since Iris took off for her grandmother's estate on the other side of the city until her sister and Jervis were married. From what he understood, the wedding was in two more days, and once they got back, the papers would be drawn, and Edward Nygma would be a free man.

Joan had been handling the place in Iris' stead, and seeing Drew again had been great, for lack of a better, smarter word at the moment. He and his wife Rochelle had been visiting him twice that week, once bringing their two young children, Ben and Jenny, with them to finally meet their "Uncle Eddie" - they also had a third on the way - and the moment he met those two little faces of joy, he realized that he actually wanted to be a father. When Joan told him she was pregnant, he admitted that he'd been scared shitless, but lately the more he thought about it, the more excited he became. Drew offered him a job in the technology division once he was out of this hellhole, and that would also mean putting a deposit first on an apartment for him and Joan.

Speaking of which, the door was unlocking and opening, and only one person he knew would be coming into his cell at this time.

"Joan," he said with a smile, sitting up in his bed.

"Eddie." She turned around and opened up her white coat as soon as she'd closed and locked the door behind her. She headed his way with a little smile on her face, reaching up to open her coat to reveal not the sexy piece he loved so much, but an emerald green chemise with lace on the V-neck. It was short and sexy enough, though, and _green._

"Mmm, short and sexy," he purred, "my riddle queen." He accepted her in a seductive embrace and a kiss on the lips, hard and needy. They had nine months, from what he understood about pregnancy, but there was more to that, as well. Joan would be experiencing the following symptoms that were common in the first few months: morning sickness, nausea, cramps, the usual. Not to mention high levels of anger and frustration, which meant that he had to be careful as to not arouse her wrath at irregular times.

"Thought maybe we'd get to it," she said, getting into his lap, dropping her coat to the dirty floor and not caring if it got dust on it. He noticed she had something in her hand, and his eyes went wide when he saw what it was: a rubbery green vibrator. Paired with something that looked like it was the classic form of lubricant…and one of the Pleasure Balms Pamela had been talking about - the one scented like refreshing, tingling spearmint, used on and he quoted, "the desired pleasure points like the thighs, breasts, lips, _all_ the parts a woman likes to be kissed and touched." But then again it was used on men's places, too. Thinking that the vixen and the dim-witted harlequin used this stuff, too…that was more than he needed to dwell on at this moment.

"I was thinking we could try a new position I'd been reading about," Joan continued, standing up and dropping her simple black panties to the floor, the fabric pooling around her black stilettos. "It's called the 'vibrating V'. What you do is this…" She pushed him back up against the wall so that she was straddling him face-to-face. She then grasped the back of his shoulders for balance, then lifted her legs so her calves were on his shoulders.

Edward couldn't believe what was happening. Since her legs were on his shoulders, her lovely ass was placed on his clothed crotch, where his member was straining in his pants. He awkwardly fumbled with his zipper under there, her weight straining on her body as she lifted herself up a little to help him get himself out. Just when he was getting situated, she slammed herself onto his member, and he was engulfed in tight heat. Edward groaned at the feel of her ass around him, even more when she began rocking herself back and forth a little. But that didn't seem to be enough for her as she held the vibrator in one hand as she used the other to coat it in the lubricant and handed it to him once he was finished. He was confused for a moment, but then it soon kicked in. Since his hands were free and her clitoris front and center, she was silently telling him that another part of this new position was to use a vibrator on it for a killer _simultaneous orgasm._

~o~

Words couldn't place how beautifully ethereal the wedding was. Mainly blue with glowing silvery white from the lighting, this was an actual Wonderland. Not the picturesque universe of Lewis Carroll, but along the lines of a Winter Wonderland, and it was the first day of spring. Symbolic of the end of a season and the beginning of a new one - as the end of a life and the beginning of a new one. The dance room had been carefully and exquisitely crafted with trees that practically covered every part, reaching as tall as the ceiling. The lighting made them appear as blue as the rest of the room, same with the ice sculptures of the classical characters like the Mad Hatter, Alice, March Hare, the Queen of Hearts, and others.

The reception room where they would proceed to afterwards was set in the same room, just off to another part of the forestry. The white tables were set with clear vases filled with lights and calla lilies, among other things like sweet pieces of colors in blues, browns, and whites. The cake was plain white frosting and four-tiered, designed with a colony of butterflies swirling from around the bottom all the way to the top of the cake in shades of ice-blue, turquoise, royal, and navy blue. The guests were seating themselves in two aisles of antique white finished chairs. Jonathan watched from among the best men - yes, he was one of Jervis's best men - as the groom himself fidgeted nervously from foot to foot. He put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "Everything's going to be fine," he assured him.

Jervis gave him a little smile. "I know, March. It's just that…I've waited my whole miserable life for her that I can't believe this is actually happening."

"And I'm happy for you," Jonathan told him, and that was when the music started up, announcing the arrival of the bridesmaids.

"Maybe someday it'll happen to you and Iris," Jervis whispered to him with a knowing grin, casting a look to where four women stood in strapless ruched blue dresses, in which Iris stood among them, holding a bouquet of oriental lilies like them. Her in blue with her hair in a trail of puffy curls was a sight to behold - when was she never?

He felt his breath catch in his throat as memories of that night lingered on his mind, and then the morning after, which involved the "reaching for the heavens" position where Iris was flat on her back and her arms raised overhead so her palms rested flat on the headboard; it was as if she was reaching for the "sexual stars". Never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought he was going to thank the Kama Sutra for all of this.

And then he remembered Jervis' remark. Marriage was never on his agenda in life, because he had been too focused on his career to even care about some woman. But now things had changed. He was only a little over thirty, and something was missing in his life. True, he had Iris, but he wanted more than just that.

A collective gasp arose from the crowd as all attention was directed to where the bride was entering with her grandmother in a long dress as silver as her hair. Jonathan looked to the groom's face to see his slackened jaw and starry eyes, then back to the bride approaching. Her gown was full and the traditional pure white with the bodice boned and set with blue butterflies, the satin part of the skirt cutting midway to show ethereal tulle and a few more butterflies throughout. Her hair was bunned up and elegantly curled and braided all the same, set with little white flowers. For the past few years when he'd known Jervis, he'd told Jonathan that he'd waited his whole life for this one woman, and she was all who understood him.

Very much like him and Iris.

The guests were seated as soon as the bride took her place before her groom, and the ceremony began. The whole time, Jonathan couldn't take his eyes off of Iris even as the vows and rings were exchanged, and Alice Pleasance became Alice Tetch, and she and her new husband shared a kiss. As all of that happened, he once again imagined himself in Jervis' place, and Iris in her sister's.

 **I loved Iris and Jonathan's first time in "Descent into Darkness", in the sixth chapter, and it still makes me burn after over four years. ;D The position Edward and Joan also end up in is a real position with exactly those directions of use, and supposedly a, quote, "killer simultaneous orgasm". XD The next position mentioned between Iris and Jonathan involved "reaching for the sexual stars", but I forgot the name of it exactly.**

 **The marriage of Alice and Jervis was always a dream to picture, so I'm glad with how it turned out in the end. :) Dreamy, nuff said.**


	18. Passion Play

Chapter Seventeen

Passion Play

"Iris, welcome back." Joan Leland stood from behind the desk and reached out to accept her handshake, though she was wincing. Her back must be hurting her now. Iris had to admit it, it was a little strange being back here after spending a less than a month at her grandmother's estate. But she missed everybody here, and today was when Edward would be released. Once again, she was dressed up for it, wearing again the dress she wore for Jonathan's release, the colors from blue to teal to black, but this time her hair was up in chignon bun. "Thanks, Joan," she said, accepting the handshake. "And thank you for taking care of everyone for me."

"Oh, it's my job and you know that," the other woman replied with an easy smile. "In fact, everyone's been asking when you'd be back. You know, Iris…" she said, stepping out from behind the desk to hand her place back over to her. "…I've given my life for these people in here, but never in my life had I ever met someone so young and full of life, and passionate as you. Nor has that person ever been able to connect with the patients here. I sometimes think you're better than I am."

"Oh, hush. I would not say I'm better than you. That's exactly what these people need, Joan," she agreed, sitting down, mentally groaning in satisfaction at the feel of her cushioned leather chair. "They need someone there for them, so that they are less likely to continue their ways and more likely to start fresh." She looked down at the paperwork that now laid on her desk. "So, where's Edward now?"

"He's getting the last of his own paperwork filled in," Joan answered. "Rochelle, my cousin-in-law, is on her way to pick him up. I can't really keep him in this place any longer. The judge even approved but has the final date scheduled for tomorrow morning."

Iris sighed heavenly. "Thank God he's out of here now. He's been through a lot and didn't deserve it." _Everything from his mother leaving him, his distant father, and everything at state…_

"So, what about your sister and Jervis? Didn't you say they would be on a honeymoon now?"

"In Tahiti, yes."

Joan laughed. "It's funny, I imagined someplace like Morocco for Eddie and myself. We talked about it before, had we ever decided to get married and have kids." She looked down at her abdomen where their first little one was not that far along. "You ever wonder what it's like to have children of your own?"

Suddenly, Iris was thinking about a little face framed with ebony hair, set with crystalline blues, and features that had been carved from ice with love and care… "Maybe," she replied. "I'd rather not have children that won't be accepted in this wretched world." She thought of herself and her own mother as soon as she said that. She felt the other's hand on her.

"You're going to be a good mother. You're nothing like yours, and you know how to handle people well. You give everyone in this place the attention and affection that a mother would give a child."

Just then, there was another knock on the door. Carl popped his head in. "Excuse me, docs, but Nygma's asking for you both."

~o~

Edward put down the pen as soon as he was finished and sighed heavily. The clerk smiled at him warmly as she took the papers from him. "That's it. You're free to go, Mr. Nygma."

"Not just yet. I believe someone asked to see us." He looked up and saw Iris and Joan standing there in the doorway.

"Wanted to see you both before I left," Edward answered, turning around to fully face them in his chair. It felt alien and surreal to be wearing ordinary clothes again - he was now in a charcoal gray V-neck sweater over a striped lime-and-white collar shirt with tailored gray pants, given to him by Drew - when he had been in an orange prison suit for so many months. Now that he was out of it and ready to live the better life, he wondered if he would ever have the chance to see Jon again as he was living with Iris and her married sister and new brother-in-law.

Joan walked up to him and, not caring that others would watch, took his face in both her hands, bringing him down for a kiss that they would no longer hide - and that meant no more sneaking into broom closets and private office times. They would be getting a place of their own again, and this time Jon would not be living with him. Sighing, Edward melted into Joan and held her close to him, happy and feeling like letting his manly shell fall to show the soft side he knew he had. Men were just as soft, only they prided on covering it with tight jaws and stern faces.

"You're saying that like we may not see each other again," Iris noted, laughing. "Don't worry about that. You both are welcome to visit us anytime you want. We'll have a guest room ready for you guys, and perhaps a couple others for Drew and his clan."

"You really mean that?" Edward felt like a fool asking that; of course she meant it. Joan laughed against him as she echoed his thought.

"So what do you plan to do out there now?" Iris asked as she walked him out of the clerk's office for the front entrance, Joan still holding onto his hand.

"Um…" Edward hadn't dwelled on that as much as taking Drew up on his offer. "Like Drew offered me, which I can definitely swing. But I'm also considering writing quiz books - you know, every riddle and clue I gave out to the Batman or anyone else I ever came in contact with in written paper and out for the world to see."

"Sounds you." Iris smiled at him warmly. Out parked in front of them was a shiny silver Volvo, no need to guess who the driver was intended. "Well, then, I suppose this is no good-bye - you know I hate that term - but a 'see you soon.'" She turned to give him a quick, tender hug. "You come and see us sometime, Eddie."

He groaned and drew back to give her a mocking glare. "I hate it when people call me that, _Blue_ ," he returned, earning a stick of the tongue, and then a shared laugh.

"Get your ass out of here before I change my mind and lock you back in," Iris teased, patting his back. He shared one more hug and kiss with Joan - she whispered she would see him later - before letting her go. Somehow he felt empty just knowing that there would be no more seeing her during the day until the day itself was over. "And don't forget what I asked of you!" Iris yelled as he opened his door to the shotgun seat, where he would soon be transported far away from this horrible place.

~o~

Jonathan was feeling really anxious at the moment. He had just sent the Gotham Memorial Library his resume and everything, but he was really nervous. What if he was rejected because of his criminal record? It was likely possible, and if that happened, he would most likely end up working at a fast food restaurant or something. Or end up stuck at home while Iris worked all day. Not that he minded being alone, but he missed her during the day.

Perhaps he could find some way to enjoy himself - and perhaps hatch up a plan to enjoy her as soon as she walked through that door. He had done more reading of the Kama Sutra, but one of the new positions he'd overheard Harley and Ivy one time - he had no idea why that one stayed in his mind - when they engaged in "girly talk", and one sexual position was known as the "reverse cowgirl position" where the woman was on top, facing away, and "the angle of the member through the front entrance of the vaginal opening stimulates the area of the G-spot," as he'd heard Ivy instruct Harley. Then it had been when she'd unwillingly given the harlequin tips on making it with her clown boyfriend.

But now that gave him a new idea on how to make Iris "one happy girlfriend." Eddie's words, which he'd never thought he'd taken to heart in his life.

Speaking of Eddie, he was being released today. He was very happy for his friend's release. Iris had been telling him - and Eddie told him over the phone - that he was given a job by Joan's cousin at the family company, and he was getting an apartment with her…who, by the way, was pregnant with his baby. That last part made Jonathan groan. Okay, that was unexpected for the both of them, but the least they could have done was wear protection. Except that would've prevented poor Eddie from having a proper orgasm, but safety was safety in accordance to the rules of sex.

Suddenly, that made him think of Iris. What if they had a child if they weren't careful? Jonathan knew nothing much about being a father as much as he wanted to have a family with her. She didn't seem like she was mother material, given her experiences with her own. But no, she was too good to be like Maria. And besides, the theory of the male partner with no good release at the end of the act was proven true on that first time.

He smirked when he heard the door lock click open, and quickly bolted up from the luxurious couch and headed for the doorway, watching as Iris slipped off her heels and give herself a good shake after the long day was over. For a second, he wondered if she was too tired to even do this, but his impatient arousal was insisting. Then he heard her calling for him.

"Jonathan, I'm home."

"In here," he answered back, standing where he was on the inside of the sitting room. He heard her padding across the tiled floor on her bare feet.

"God, can you believe this? Eddie's finally out there, and before you know it, you'll see him again in no ti - Jonathan!" She let out a cry of surprise when he advanced on her, grabbing her arms and spinning her around for a rough, demanding kiss. Laughing wildly, she tried to push him off. "Jonathan, what's gotten into you?!"

"I need you, little nymph," Jonathan purred, ravaging her neck with the pressure of his kisses. The bite mark from that night was still there on her neck. He pushed down the blue shoulder of the dress she'd worn when he himself had left Arkham, then her bra strap to nibble the sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck, emitting a mouse of a squeak of delight from her. "I've been missing you all day it isn't even funny," he rasped, reaching down to undo his belt, button, and zipper so he could free himself from the tight confides of his jeans. "I sent in my resume to the library today," he continued, "but the anxiety of it is still here that I need help in ending it." He reached up under her skirt, after feeling the smoothness of her thigh, and reached to the lace of her low-rise lace briefs. She was on the brink of soaking wet through the fabric.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, and he picked her up and carried her over to one of the rich blue-gray damask floral sofas underneath the gilded golden ceiling and chandelier highlighting the opulence of the sitting room. He discarded his blue turtleneck and jeans and proceeded to pull her dress from the shoulders down so she was left in her lingerie - the finest electric blue lace with black French lace overlaid. It unhooked in the front so that her breasts rolled a little to the side upon release. Loins pounding harder than before with need, Jonathan rolled over onto his back so that she could take control, he helped her sit up on top of him, turning her away so that her firm little rear end was pressing against his lower abdomen and the center of her core was touching his heated erection. She looked back at him with an expression of confusion, but he gave her a reassuring smile and gave her bottom a little pat, spreading his legs wider and bending his knees for more space for her.

She straddled him, then, and pretty soon he was engulfed by wet heat, hotter than dripping lily nectar under the sun, and began to ride him, pulling the pins from her bun and throwing her head back then and letting her mane of raven hair fall back and tickle his chest slightly. Jonathan uttered a series of grunts at this challenging new position, but once the practicing was done, the better it was. The riding mixed with hard and fast to slow and gentle on his shaft, but it was nothing more or less than exquisite sensations. "Oh, Iris…Iris, that's a good girl! How do you feel?"

" _Like Eden_!" she yelled up to the ceiling, increasing the speed. She gripped his thighs for support. It was so hard for Jonathan to keep a straight face as he relished the steamy sight of her bottom lifting up and down and swinging side to side before his eyes. And then she did _this_ : she reached for his balls and began to fondle them, keeping the other hand on his thigh for support. Jolts of electricity shot through him, and he groaned, almost to the point of shouting.

What was fabulous about this was the fact that he could feel and not see Iris' face, which fueled his fantasies at the face she was making at this time. And the sounds she hollered - something he had never heard from her - clearly told him that the theories were correct, and Eddie had been right in making her _one happy girl._ What even made this position so good about obtaining the biggest orgasm of all time was the fact that the female was in control and doing all this and that, grinding in any position which suited her, and at any speed at any random time, Iris would pound him off quickly, then lower back down to being slow and subtle just to tease them both. Unlike he imagined in being unable to penetrate her properly, he was wrong.

She bent forward, offering a better angle and entrance for him to slide further inside, his pubic bone rubbing against her clit for more. This part proved too much for Jonathan as he arched himself up and hit a more sensitive spot in her - a little cry escaped her lips then - causing her to arch herself back against him, and he felt it come. After following her, he collapsed back on the sofa, holding her against him and breathing heavily with her. By that time, their bodies were sweating immensely to the point of illumination from the golden crystal chandelier above.

Iris managed to lift her head and turn around to look him in the eye. "What brought that on?" she asked in a raspy, post-coital voice.

Jonathan chuckled. "Needed you all day. Figured this would…make the whole hard day more memorable."

She sat up then, ignoring the painful pop of her bones from the "exercise", turning around to show him her breasts. "Well, I got something for you that'll make it all the more memorable," she told him, a suggestive edge to her tone…giving away what she had in mind.

He smirked at her. "You want to go again." It wasn't a question, either.

~o~

Over in Morocco in general, there was a Turkish-style steam bath known as the _hamman_. It was opened to both public and private alike, but either way, you were in for uber-luxury - even stripping down however you were pleased of your own will or at the request of your masseuses. "This is not the time to be shy! Do as the Moroccans do and strip down to the bare essentials," it was said by them or in the brochures. How the massage technique was done: buckets of water poured over you, then came steaming. The heated stone platforms to lay on guaranteed to force your muscles to surrender to the temptation. To follow was the exfoliation process unlike any other you ever received or heard of, the dead skin cells removed indefinitely. Afterwards, more rinses and perhaps a shampoo and facial treatment. All of the above was pure heaven that could be called undeserved pampering and the regret to follow for overindulgence.

The spa room of DeLaine Manor was designed after the _hamman,_ where first Iris led Jonathan down the entrance, which was an airy space of soft, clean white stone from the ceiling to the pillars to the floor, and all accented with blue splashes. Off to the wall between the little indoor pool and some pillars was a Moroccan fountain of cream and the strongest cobalt blue mosaic tiles, which literally created a Moroccan oasis. They then took a walk down the corridor, under which they passed through soft sea foam-colored arches carved with beautiful Moroccan scrolls and hung with the native lanterns. Like over in the country of this theme, they encountered classic scents in the air including rose, mint, honey, almond, lemon, orange blossom and argan oil. A simple whiff of these scents was always enough to transport you to the Middle East.

Now they were here. The spa room was in warm and fiery hues of rose-gold to provide an exotic backdrop, same with the pillars and arches of the ceiling. The antique-finished wooden door to their left was shut, but it was filled with more assorted bottles from the Kama Sutra line, all of them to "make love better". "Go ahead and get ready," Iris purred seductively - she knew she was doing just that - to Jonathan as she gestured for the bronze filigree changing screen off to the far right, just before the marble massage bed that matched the rest of the room. He gave her a coy smirk and headed for that, also where an elegant aqua-and-blue Moroccan towel was slung over just for him. She watched, given that the screen was partially see-through, as he stripped down completely, undergarments and all, and then wrapped the towel around his waist, while she grabbed the needed materials from the massive cabinet. She came down here on rare occasions, namely to give her sister a message after a long day of tiresome CEO meetings and business deals, and vice versa. Alice even told her she'd do the same for Jervis, and vice versa on that, as well.

She turned around to see him getting on the table, towel wrapped around his slim, feminine waist. He smirked at her as he laid himself facedown, turning his head the opposite way on the pillow under his head. Iris giggled as she walked over to where he lay. She unscrewed the lid of the Aromatic Massage Oil named Pleasure Garden, doused her hand with some of the light, silky-smooth fluid, and began to rub it on the fragile surface of Jonathan's back. Sensual touching released a powerful sex hormone called oxytocin, which increases a man or woman's testosterone levels and ignited their sex drive. The seductive silky feel of oil being rubbed on skin was a turn-on for more passionate sex - and that was the point.

He moaned and murmured nonsensical phrases as she administrated the therapy he probably hadn't ever experienced in his life. Iris groaned with him, as the feel of his back under her hands paired with the skin-nourishing oils, an enticing fragrance filling her nostrils and giving a powerful effect on her mind, body and spirit, no doubt doing the same to her Jonathan. The essential oils included Italian jasmine, rose, lavender and sandalwood. _Touch someone you care for with the light and silky smooth blends of Aromatic Massage Oils…_

When Iris found herself caressing him above the towel, which covered his backside, she felt herself throb in the nether region of her black silk shorts. An idea came to her mind - particularly with the jar of Oil of Love that rested beside her - as she lightly fingered the towel before reaching to pull it down to around his knees. A gasp of surprise sounded from Jonathan as his smooth, round buttocks was revealed to her, but he said nothing. He remained lying as he was as Iris continued to stare at it, the feeling between her thighs growing. She picked up the little orange-colored jar, opening it to give Jonathan the feeling of his life. The Oils of Love collection was used primarily on the erogenous areas of the body - the females' were the breasts, the back of her knees, neck, thighs and buttocks - and gave off a delicious scent and irresistible warmth. The aroma of tropical mango flared her nose senses as she did the same routine to the back of his neck, his back, then down to his firm, round cheeks. Her face flushed with heat of embarrassment, partly due to the fact that she'd never touched this part of him before…but the feel of this under her hands felt _so damn good…_

A deep sigh broke her out of her reverie, and she looked down to see his face in relaxed content, eyes closed as if sleeping, mouth slightly agape and letting out little noises of enjoyment. But then he began to turn over on his back, prompting her to stop what she was doing. Did he want her to stop? Iris opened her mouth to ask him when he began to make little gestures with his hands from his thighs to his groin and finally his chest. _He wanted her to touch him with the oil in those places._

Of course, she ended up using more of the sweet-smelling formula, going over his chest as gestured, making his nipples harden beneath her palms, over his hardening member and its surrounding now-glistened dark patch, and finally his lean, pale thighs. The whole time, Jonathan was looking up at her with that same look in his eye…that look of languid heat and intense lust. He then looked down at his erect sex and back up to her, winking as he spread his legs apart and bent his knees, inviting her in. The bothersome heat below her stomach couldn't take the wait anymore as she immediately divested herself of her shorts and climbed on top of him, keeping her own knees bent and her legs outside his arms. The feel of his stiff length in her once more made her horny as it did earlier, but this was much stronger before as they were in the Middle Eastern themed spa room. She leaned back a little, supporting herself on her palms, bucking herself against him gently to let him know that she was letting him take charge this way now, that he had the power to bring himself the pleasure from her. He grinned as he began to thrust his hips up and down.

Iris gasped and shuddered as pleasure rushed through her like before. _Thank God for the Kama Sutra,_ she thought. Now she knew Jonathan had read it before, too, but she couldn't figure out when or where, but the clear purpose had been to get some help on how to make their relationship work in the physical manner. Well, he was an amazing lover whether it had been from the help of the book or his own experience.

This angle was perfect for genital stimulation - and left the hands free to wander. Iris brought her hands up to his slim calves and up to the fuller thighs, reaching under to cup both sides of his fleshy buttocks. His thrusts slowed down to a rhythmic tempo in time with the relaxing music that had been playing for less than an hour, but by then he had reached his climax and erupted in a heat of liquid pleasure inside her, lowering his tired legs back onto the slab to catch his breath.

They made love one more time in the spa room after that. After his "massage", they'd taken to the pool of the spa, in accordance to a position called the "bubbly back float", in which she reclined on the rim with her arms stretched out to her sides, holding on to the edge of the pool for support. Jonathan had knelt between her legs, facing her, and lifted her by the backs of her thighs so she was floating off the seat and he could enter her and do all the work. But after that, they cleaned up in their separate bathrooms and rejoined downstairs for dinner and retired to their separate rooms for the night, because if they had the need to touch each other again, Iris would never be able to walk at work the next morning.

But that did not stop her from dwelling on the fact that her newly-discovered sex life - or rather _lovemaking,_ which sounded much more lovelier and deeper than simply sex - was far better than she'd imagined it…and so _incredible_.

 **Whoo, bless the Kama Sutra - both the book AND product line, and bless Morocco for the hamman experience. :D**


	19. Joining the Dance

**Ed and Joan's new apartment was based off a real one in New York, but I can't seem to find or remember what the inspired one was.**

Chapter Eighteen

Joining the Dance

The apartment that Joan had bought them was far better than the ratholes he'd lived in with Jon. This rare find was only one short block from Gotham State Park. LaParadisa Place was a loft style building that had one apartment per floor, and a total of only nine apartments. Sun-filled spaces were tough to find anywhere for the average citizen, but this one had just that as well as the desired living space. Outdoor space was a premium in Gotham, and this apartment's gardens were a dream with trees, shrubs and flower's. There was the master bedroom and two more, as well as French doors opening to a balcony.

Edward couldn't believe his luck. He stared at his surroundings for a few more minutes before finding the strength to move his legs forward to where Joan was unloading a box full of books to put on the shelves. The printed floral blouse was buttoned down by four to show her ample rack as she bent over to grab and armful. Good thing she was able to handle things on her own for now, before she got all large on him. Now that was something he had to watch out for, as once the bump grows out, so would her weight and enable him to do most of the work for her.

He still couldn't believe the fact that he'd once been an eligible ladies' man turned Rogue, now released and moving in with his baby's mama - his first and only love since high school. One of the finest Arkham Asylum doctors who had been with him through this and that the entire time, never treating him any differently than she always did upon learning everything he'd done.

"You need some help with that?" he offered when he noticed that she winced as she carried what looked like a tall stack from her waist to her chin.

"Please," she squeaked, clear that she couldn't hold on any longer. She sighed in relief when half of the stack was taken out of her hands. "You know, I feel like I want to be off my feet already. And I'm only a little over a month along."

Edward laughed as she stacked the books on the first shelf, the bottom one, in place. "I don't really know too much about raising a kid. You have a niece and a nephew, but I haven't seen them since they were babes. It's not like I was around kids much all my life."

Joan gave him a little smile. "Neither do I. But we have eight months to get prepared." She had by then proceeded to open a new box. "Iris called. She and Jonathan are asking us to have some fun with them Friday night." She winked at him. "Day off for the both of us the next day."

~o~

"Oh, I don't think I can do this." Joan let out a nervous little laugh as she looked around the room - black from the beginning, now filled with at least dozens of multicolored blazing lights - and the horde of people having their "good time" in them. "I'm not even allowed to drink when I'm pregnant."

"Oh, don't worry about drinking mojitos or booze or anything strong here," Iris told her with an airy laugh. "They got nonalcoholic beverages here, too."

Eddie took a glance around his surroundings, then looked over at Jonathan with a smirk. "Remember I used to drag your ass out of the dorm at school and to the club for a good time?"

Jonathan groaned at the memories. "God, don't even remind me." He reached up to undo the first button of his light blue shirt and tug gently on the collar as he suddenly felt hot in this room smelling of mindless fun and lusting for a random stranger. He frowned disapprovingly at the sight of a man leaning for women in drunken states, and women slithering over the men just to get what they wanted. Old habits die hard when it came to scowling at these types.

He hadn't been here since that one night during the year he had been on the run from the Batman and the law, months after Fear Night. This bar was still in the friendly side of Gotham, but it was still isolated from the open public and free to even the roguish. This was also a refuge for the after-work crowd and the teen youth. Iris had been here then on that typical Wednesday night for a stress relief from the long hard day - from what he saw, anyways. She had been that way once in a while when he was still head of Arkham, but since she was barely legal age, he'd ended up buying a bottle of bourbon or vodka so they could stir up some Bloody Mary's or something.

"Come on, Eddie. Let's dance. I really like this song." Joan was tugging his arm and pulling him toward the crowd gathering in the middle of the floor. The lighting really made her short lace dress shine an even brighter lilac than it was. Jonathan winced a little as he recognized the Pussycat Dolls' _Don't Cha_ blasting through the speakers.

" _Don't cha with your girlfriend was hot like me? Don't cha with your girlfriend was a freak like me? Don't cha…_?" Iris was laughing as she sang all at once, sashaying her body with the rhythm, the lights shimmering off her tight leather pants, and her slim iridescent blue tank top sparkling madly as her eyes. The sight made Jonathan laugh, too. "Will you join the dance, Professor?" she slurred - not in a drunken manner - her tongue slithering seductively with the S's.

"Not to this song. Not a favorite of mine." Her pout of the lips was adorable if not for the puppy dog look in her eyes. That old trick was so old that it worked on no one now, himself included. "I'm getting us both a drink, first, young lady." He brought her over to the bar and called for shots. Shots weren't his forte, but they were enough to get the party going.

"Remember you found me here that night?" she asked casually, accepting hers and about to bring it to her lips when he lifted his hand to stop it from reaching that destination.

"That night I was relishing my freedom of living among the shadows, my loathing of the world…until I saw you sitting at this very spot having a lonely drink by yourself, with me not there to join you…and then I was there to sneak you away for a dance of our own?" He smiled down at her, then raising his shot glass for a little toast. She clinked hers against it, and _then_ they downed down the alcohol like water, both remembering that night with vigor.

~o~

 _2 years ago…_

She looked around her surroundings as she downed down her beverage of the evening - a Sunset Sangria, with ruby red wine atop pale limeade and garnished with a nectarine - and scowled. Not at her drink, but at the people around her. Things like this never change over time. It had been this way since the beginning of time and always will be.

Including the disgust she felt, observing the mess before her despite the orderliness of the place. Iris had always witnessed this from high school up to now, along with the one man who had been on the run for over the last nine months. Shared his disgust, his distaste for these simple-minded people, lived day to day under the pretense of normal _._ He was lucky enough to finally be away from this cage called society which she still remained trapped in but had grown to make the best of, sweet revenge coming always at a time. Here she was among them in dark, blending clothes - a one-sleeved black top and her favorite slim dark jeans and boots - having a name given to her since birth and the title she worked for as he had. And the position that had once belonged to _him_.

But the moment - and the nights - she donned her mask and armed herself with her blades - she was _free._

She was free to do what she wished with those responsible for his banishment - not in public as she would get the same scornful treatment as he did. Especially that meddlesome bitch in the DA's office, who had also been involved in his disgrace. Her, the Batman, the people of her and his abusive childhoods, the students and faculty of university, and some of those at the asylum…they were all the same. They were responsible for his fall from grace. The man who trained her was killed in the monorail crash at Wayne Tower. Now she was alone in the world, without him once more as she had been in her final year in college.

Right now, tonight…it was a typical Wednesday night for her. Since Iris DeLaine was the asylum's director at only twenty-one years old - the youngest doctor to follow Jonathan Crane - no one would dare criticize her if she awoke with a hangover and arrived late the next day. She had the power to fire them even if she wanted to. But only a couple drinks of the Sangria was enough, and she needed to head home soon. She finished the last of the glass and paid for it before standing up soberly and leaving with grace and sobriety in her steps.

She stepped out into a breezy autumn night, the wind rippling her hair and sending chills over the bared areas of her arm and shoulder, handbag slung over her shoulder. She stepped over concrete sidewalk, looking across the street to where her SUV as black as her hair, as the clothes she wore, the night sky - and her soul - was parked in the lot across some feet away. Gotham was not a safe place even for a young woman her age, but she was always armed and on her guard - packed with namely a pistol and pepper spray all the same - and aided by the shadows. They were good to her as he was when they hid her from prying eyes and guided her to safety. But her car wasn't the top priority at the moment even though she needed to be home for her nightly routine of a hot bath and rest. Darkness and the whispering winds were calling her to another matter; they brought her down the abandoned street, assisting her in her desired destination…to where the van was awaiting her. That vehicle as white as the moon that did not glow on this night, the only vehicle sitting on its own this very night, not caring that someone would see it and alert the authorities at once.

There _he_ was, standing so utterly still beside the half-opened rear doors. Black was his suit as the night, opened to reveal a crisp white shirt buttoned all the way to the top - as dashing as she remembered. Sad to say that his ethereal, handsome features were hidden by a mask of the terror that was whispered in the streets since that fateful night…the face of the name that terrorized the hearts of millions hidden by hideously stitched rags. His profile was known to the public in the "old" days was cold, arrogant, and corrupt - in Dawes' case - and that he had no heart for his evil deeds. All of the above served to the manipulations of society and tall tales of the media that he was blue-blooded and had the coldest heart known to man. Many claimed he had a heart that never beat once; others believed he had no heart at all.

They were all wrong, for she knew it better than any one of them. He _did_ have a heart, and she knew it because she knew him when they did not. And for that, time had not changed it at all.

She willed herself forward, eager to speak to him, to hear his voice once more before he would vanish again, as he was now a wanted man. Then she would have to wait for another long time before an opportunity like this would ever happen again.

His head cocked to the side as he watched her advance in his direction. He stood full regality, hands behind his back. "I've been waiting for you all night, my little flower," he said, his breath a cold hiss in the night air.

"You risked your life and your freedom being out here in public," Iris replied, running a hand through her hair.

He chuckled behind his mask; he no longer wore the speaker in the mouth section, not since the taser shot him at the hands of Rachel Dawes. "You know I would do anything for you, Iris," he said. "Nine months of hearing your succession - but never seeing you - ripped my heart slowly piece by piece. But tonight I've had prepared for us if not all night long." He removed one of his hands from behind his back and held it out to her. "Take my hand, and I will take you far away from here."

He took her into the white van, which was currently vacant save for the two of them. She imagined he gave his goons the night off just for her. Not that she had a problem with his men, but it was so hard for him to find decent help with a brain like his. But at least his driver who remained knew how to tie his shoes. Said driver took them to Gotham Park - she panicked for a little bit as she imagined the Batman finding them there at this time of night and could take Jonathan back to Arkham. She felt his hand massage her back gently as he led her through the trees that grew older and more leafless as they ventured deeper into the thicket. "Relax. He won't find us tonight. He's busy…elsewhere. I made sure of it." His breath was warm on her ear through the burlap mesh of his mask. She giggled.

"Here we are." They stopped in a clearing, at the very end of the park that was still surrounded with trees, but this spot was still the same as the way they passed through. Except the barren tree branches of the season were hung with glowing glass lanterns, with a few on the ground in a few not-so-random places. A picnic table had been set up for the two of them, two chairs in place, one facing opposite sides. The table was covered with a plain white cloth that glowed in the light of the lanterns, set with a fine, elegant but simple meal that was pretty on the plate…and in general classified as a romantic dinner for two. Not to mention, the table was scattered with red and white rose petals here and there, some littering on the green grass. Iris gasped.

"It's beautiful." Did Jonathan intend for this to be a romantic getaway for them? He wasn't the romantic type, but at least he knew how to please a woman and make her happy. Soft, nature music filled the air instead of the traditional classic music. She didn't see the source of sound, but it didn't matter. The appetizers consisted of skewers of melon and mozzarella balls, while the main course was a rack of lamb with herbs and roasted tomatoes, followed by _Easy by Decadent_ Nutella Mousse. The champagne flutes were filled with a single fresh strawberry.

"Jonathan, you did not have to do all of this," she said once they were done, and by then a new song was playing somewhere in the distance. Immediately, she forgot what she'd said and instead focused on just this one that she knew all too well. "This is our song."

"Yes, it is." He stood up and walked over to her, holding out his hand to her. He had long since removed his mask when they began to dine out in the open, showing his black stain of hair tousled over a pale moonlit face, pale petal lips twitched into an amused smirk at her attempts to tell him he didn't have to treat her as he did - like a princess - but he'd gone all this way just to make this once-in-a-maybe-lifetime chance tonight last. "Will you join me for this dance, my lady?"

 _We de ze zu bu (We regret our sins, but…)_

 _We de sooo a ru (We sew our own fate, and)_

 _Un va-a pesh a lay (Under my face, I remain feeble)_

 _Un vi-i bee (Under my face, I smile)_

 _Un da la pech ni sa (Even alone, afraid)_

 _Un di-i lay na day (Under my face)_

 _Un ma la pech a nay mee di nu ku (I will be waiting)_

~o~

 _Today_

Three months gone by, and life was good for everyone.

Iris groaned under her breath as she read the report from the asylum detailing the escape of Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. What the hell were those two thinking?! Not like the Batman would be out much because he was a fugitive who took the fall for Harvey Dent's death - the details spilled out to her in private by the Joker himself, whom she thanked just that one time for the death of the insufferable Rachel Dawes for riding her ass on her own after Jonathan's disgrace - but what could those two be up to now?

She felt Jonathan come up behind her and wrap his arms around her for a hug. "I heard about that," he said, leaning over and reading the letter. "I wonder what those two are up to now."

"Well, if I ever see them again, I'm going to give them a piece of my mind."

Just then, there was a ring of the doorbell. Jonathan stood up from sitting beside her on the sofa and walked for the door and answered it for her. It was a Thursday June evening, the typical end of a summer day. The weather in Gotham tended to be hot on only rare occasions like this, and this was precisely what she needed, a long day and summer heat, and now a report detailing the escape of two of her patients for the first time in a good long time. And her all black short set didn't help matters much, either.

Jonathan came back into the living room, carrying a white envelope. "It's for you," he said, handing it to her.

She sat up, confused as to who would be sending her whatever was in that thing at this time. "Me?" Reading the name on the envelope, the sender had been from Mr. Jim Farnsworth, Grandma Sylvia's lawyer. Chills of dread ran up her spine as she opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. The last time she saw her grandmother was less than two months ago, when she appeared more frail than she did before then at the wedding.

"What is it?" Jonathan asked, noticing her tight grip to the point of whitening her knuckles as she read the paper. Her heart had stopped in its tracks, as did her bloodflow. This was even worse - and more than her heart could bear - than she expected.

"Grandma Sylvia died last week."

 **I'm sorry to do this to Sylvia and for those who loved her. :( But her death is the drive for the upcoming events to follow, and things are back on the dramatic track. Her lawyer, Jim Farnsworth mentioned, is named after and IS the same one from "Texas Chainsaw 3D"; he was a good old man with a big heart for Marilyn Burns' character as well as Alexandra Daddario's, and he will be so in here. The dialogue in the final scene regarding the receiving of the news of Sylvia's death was also borrowed from the movie.**

 **The flashback with Iris and Jonathan from two years ago with the delicious romantic dinner was sort of inspired by Vytina's two-part "Within My World", which takes place some time after Crane was fired from GSU. The song "Now We Are Free" from Gladiator was always the theme for them even though it's universal. :)**


	20. New and Old Wounds

**One of my favorite animated films of all time is Beauty and the Beast, which "Elizabeth and the Scarecrow" is paralleled to. Behind the making of the film, its executive producer and one of the composers of the marvelous songs, Howard Ashman, was diagnosed with AIDs during production and died half a year before the movie's premiere. His colleagues and associates have a dedication at the end: "To our friend Howard Ashman, who gave a mermaid her voice and a beast his soul - we will be forever grateful". It was also known that he was "so dynamic you didn't realize anything was wrong with him". Truer words had never been spoken for him or anyone else that you can consider close to your heart.**

 **Sylvia DeLaine herself was the "salt of the earth", and we all will miss her as much as her family is right now. :( Marilyn Burns herself - notably her character in Texas Chainsaw 3D - was called in those words by her lawyer in the movie that somehow stuck into my fiber that it sounded like they could be used for anyone like her.**

Chapter Nineteen

New and Old Wounds

Iris had been in turmoil for the rest of the night since finding out about her grandmother's death. Alice was the same, except she had spent the remainder of the night crying in Jervis' arms in their bedroom. Iris, on the other hand, was not one to allow heavy tears fall like her sister did. She would keep her face stoned and expressionless, save for a few tears rolling down her flawless cheeks like perfect pearls.

Jonathan himself felt a pang of grief. He hadn't known Sylvia DeLaine for that long, but the whole time he was at her estate, he had felt as if she was his blood relative and not Mariah Crane. She was an enormous presence in his life - from welcoming him as her own grandson and helping him with Iris - and she was so dynamic you didn't realize anything was wrong with her. Until about two months ago when he and Iris visited her because her health was declining. It was then that his doctoral instincts kicked in and he realized she was _very_ ill and unlikely to live longer. Of course, she was in her early to mid-sixties, and it was possible then. But at the same time, he, like Iris, Alice, and Jervis, didn't want Sylvia to leave so soon.

And now she was gone.

The funeral was in two days, which made him wonder - given she'd passed away in her sleep the week before - why her granddaughters weren't notified before. Unless arrangements had to be made first. The letter had said that the body was preserved so that no rotting was possible, and that there was a will scheduled to be read the next day after the funeral. Jonathan shouldn't expect anything in there to be left to him. What would there be for him, anyways?

Right now, Iris needed to be looked after for the night. He'd managed to persuade her to take the next couple days off from Arkham for the funeral and the will. Knowing her, she never took time off unless she absolutely needed to - sick days out of the question. Iris had never been sick a day in her life as far as he knew.

Three months…he couldn't believe this, either. They'd been together the way they were now for three whole months, and he couldn't have been happier. There were no words to explain how complete he was, more happier than he had ever been in his life, and how fabulous their lovemaking techniques were.

But now she looked _very_ ill to the face as she sat against the wall behind him in his Japanese garden shower, halfway nestled among the greenery. He was washing his hair when he turned around to look at her. She wore a plain white t-shirt that reached mid-thigh - something he rarely saw on her, but it was seductive nevertheless - with nothing else under it, and her hair was thrown behind her shoulders so it didn't hide her face from him. Her face had a mix of emotions - loss and sorrow evidently clear…mixed with _pleasure_. This adamantly shocked him a little as she'd only found out she'd lost her grandmother…and then he saw it. Her legs were parted slightly, and she was making _the motions_ with her right hand; in her left hand resting on her knee was a little blue tube that could only be known as the cooling _Intensify Arousal Gel_. This no longer shocked him, given the product line named after the book was the second guide to passion and pleasure - and seeing her use the cooling arousal for the female side of the sexes in a hot shower turned him on, too. She made eye contact with him at last as she continued her ministrations, her eyes clearly telling him what she was up to. She was pleasuring herself just to show him that she wanted to get off and take her mind off the whole events of tonight. Her free hand moving from her knee to hold it out to him was inviting him to do the same to her. Iris handing him the reign was an irresistible invitation.

The hot water was beginning to tone down, but Jonathan reached to turn it up a little, knowing the droplets spilling over his naked body in a rainfall - over his back and buttocks, and over his full front and dripping off from the dark "rainforest" around his stiffening length - was his call to her. It worked, and she joined him under the shower, her not bothering to remove her t-shirt, which was beginning to become sheer and showing certain outlines that fueled his fantasies. Her rosy nipples were hardening and showing under the wet fabric, as was the dark triangle at the base of her thighs. She leaned up against him, pressing her whole body against him for more body heat. His shaft was pressing up against her from under her shirt ridding up to around her waist, feeling both her moist heat and the remaining cool, tantalizing tingle from the gel. Jonathan groaned - this stuff worked on him, too, this stuff that satisfied desire you only dared to imagine. This was the fault of all three - Iris, the heat of the shower, and this gel - that he desired to have this time in this room now. Mix that in with the need to make Iris feel better tonight after Sylvia's death.

He held her close to him, running his fingers through her hair and bringing his other hand to cup one side of her rear, then hoisted her up, her legs wrapping around him, as they moved to the wall under the shower and he entered her without any trouble, her cries of pleasure devoid of pain for once. "Don't cry, Iris," he cooed in her ear, nuzzling into her neck afterwards. "I'm going to make you all better just for this night…"

~o~

The funeral was held precisely two days later at the manor - not Sylvia's, though. Given that her estate had no private cemetery and that her late husband was laid to rest in the one owned by Iris, Sylvia DeLaine had left specific instructions to be buried beside her husband, Andrey DeLaine. Not that far a distance from where Iris' parents laid.

The next day, before today, Iris had been allowed the opportunity to look upon the ashen face of her grandmother after preservation. There had been Sylvia, looking as if she was sleeping rather than dead, her silver hair in an elegant braided updo, in a vintage 1990's, very fitted black velvet gown with sheer décolletage and a barely deep V-neck. Iris had brought with her and placed inside the casket a sweet array of pink spray roses and pink carnations tied with pink satin ribbon and accented with ivy - Pamela's help, of course - as a very personal expression of love. It was very out of place for the air of sadness surrounding them, but Iris had been hoping that the bright colors were enough to keep the happiness that once lingered in life going in death.

Now she stood in the family courtyard, gazing down at the casket ready to be lowered into the ground - metal with a silver shaded platinum finish and decorated with rose-gold accessories - and at the beautiful spray of luminous all-white flowers - pure white oriental lilies, gladioli, carnations and stock - with delicate fragrant greenery, an elegantly simple way to give serenity and strength to the bereaved and paying tribute to the deceased Sylvia DeLaine with affection and grace. Iris wrapped her arms around herself, her slim ruched black dress with a sheer neckline and sleeves with crystal embellishment making her feel colder rather than hotter in this summer weather. Her loose hair, however, made her feel the opposite, as it draped both sides of her face and hid her dramatic, vintage black crystal chandelier earrings from view.

She felt an arm wrap around her waist. Looking up, she saw Jonathan standing there in a black mourning suit and tie along with the other male mourners who had come to pay their respects, but black shades hid his beautiful blues from her. "I don't believe in God," he whispered to her, "but I know she's in a better place now."

"I do, too," Iris whispered back. She looked to her left to see Alice in an adorable black satin dress with ribbons for straps, hair elegantly up and accented with rhinestone flowers, Jervis beside her, both clutching a bouquet of white roses, poppies, and oriental lilies and greenery similar to the spray on top of the coffin. Alice's face was the clear emblem of the grieving granddaughter, lips tightly wound as she tried so hard not to unleash a series of baby bawls, while her husband was doing his best to try to console her the whole time the preacher was reciting from the Bible how the end was eternal life, and how love never dies.

And there was Eddie and Joan, accompanied by Andrew Davis and his wife and two children. Joan was in a cute black number with a belt to show off her waist, hair in a simple ponytail, and holding a bouquet of white lilies and assorted orange flowers and greenery. She and Eddie never knew Sylvia, but Iris was grateful that they'd come here to share her grief.

Once the preacher was finished, Iris took a shaky step forward, relieved that her steps didn't falter, as she knelt down to drop her bouquet of blue forget-me-nots and white roses and callas into the ground as Sylvia's casket was lowered to the ground. "Good-bye, Grandma…" she whispered as the casket rested for the earth to close upon it forever.

Once the funeral was over, everyone was filing out, everyone but Iris stayed where she was beside the closing grave, Jonathan still beside her with his arm around her waist. Her heart ached terribly. All she could think of at the moment was that her grandmother was gone from this world. She had been an enormous presence in her life…and now she was gone.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Iris." She looked up and smiled at the sight of her grandmother's lawyer. He was a kindly old man in his early fifties, with whitening hair and a mustache, almost enough to pass off as her late grandfather. She'd only met him a couple times when she was younger, but he was one of the people whom she held the utmost respect for.

"Nice to see you, Mr. Farnsworth," she said, accepting a brief handshake and a friendly kiss on the cheek.

"And to you," he answered. "I came all the way out here from New York just for you and Sylvia." He smiled first at her and then at Jonathan. "She was a good woman. Salt of the earth. Just like her granddaughter here is the rarest blossom out of all the society girls of the world."

"A blessing that she's far more independent than those simpering women of this city," Jonathan answered, holding out his hand for another shake. "Jonathan Crane."

Farnsworth laughed. "Ah, my boy, no need for introductions. I know who you are, but no judgments there. Iris did a fine job picking out her match, much like Sylvia."

"Very much, indeed." Iris looked past Farnsworth's shoulder, and immediately felt her body tense. "And I must say that she looks just like her grandmother did, too."

The man looked somewhat older than Farnsworth by over a decade, his dark hair beginning to be overshadowed with gray. He was large in build, but not in any way like a wrestler or the average muscle man. He was dressed for mourning, his eyes hidden by shades, but Iris could have sworn that she'd seen him someplace…

She looked behind her to see Jonathan had gone completely rigid, his mouth set in a tight line. "Darling?" she asked gently. His body language remained the same, but he turned his head downward to soften his lips into a smile.

"I'll be inside, Iris," he told her, and it was then that she heard the uneasy edge in his voice - actually it was more than that. He sounded like he wanted to be far away from this mysterious man as possible. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and nodded at Farnsworth that he was taking his leave. Iris watched him go with worry in her heart. What was it about this man that made Jonathan so…terrified? She looked back at him.

"Mr. Farnsworth…" she began when she noticed how the lawyer regarded the other man with a look of pure hostility. He knew this person, but also seemed to dislike him with a great amount of passion. "…who is this?"

The man laughed as he reached and took off his shades, and she sucked in a deep breath of horror somehow. "Forgive me, Miss DeLaine," he started with a chuckle.

" _Doctor_ to you," she snapped.

"Doctor." He drawled her title if not in the way a drunkard would. "My apologies. I should have introduced myself. My name is Victor. Dr. Victor Warner."

~o~

Jonathan didn't have time to make it to the kitchen to where the others were waiting for them, instead dashing for the bathroom on the level he was on, threw up the toilet lid, and unleashed the contents from his stomach and into the bowl. When he was through, he flushed it and sat back against the wall behind him, breathing heavily as he took off his sunglasses that were threatening to fall off his nose and gasped for air heavily. The room was getting hotter as he dwelled on the fact that his worst nightmare had come back to haunt him…he remembered everything…every night he'd spent with _him_ …everything that happened on those nights…

…standing naked with his hands bound behind his back as the predator's hands roamed his body, touching places he possibly fantasized about long before that first night…

…bent over the armrest of a couch, still exposed with his hands bound behind him, buttocks in the air, legs spread, as he was sodomized…

…some after school days he spent under a desk, his nude body kneeling as he was forced to take a disgusting object into his mouth to please the most effecting demon in his miserable life…

…standing in the shower, legs spread, hands tied above his head to the curtain rack, as his captor took his "sweet time" in shaving off most, sometimes some - sometimes _all_ \- of the hair from the place that was his most private and personal above everything and everywhere else, just to satisfy his own urges…

…spread eagle fashion across a bed, lights out, and a sweaty old man groaning atop of him as he claimed a body that had been brutalized enough in one lifetime…

He moaned in agony as the terrible images swam before his tightly squeezed eyes once more. Memories he'd rather have kept locked away in a cabinet in the far reaches of his mind, never to be unlocked again. Except they had.

He heard footsteps in the doorway and realized he'd forgotten to close the door behind him. "Jon?" He recognized Edward's voice, and opened his eyes, feeling the wetness around the rims. "What's the matter?"

For a moment he contemplated telling him, but feared that he would go off and do something that would wound him back up in Arkham - or perhaps Blackgate for murder - but answered him anyway. "He's back, Eddie," Jonathan gasped. "He's returned. The one you tried to protect me from."

The way Eddie's eyes narrowed when the name didn't have to be spoken said it all but what he feared.

~o~

"Is there something the matter, my dear?"

Iris mentally flinched at the way this man - Jonathan's rapist - questioned her so sweetly. He was even worse in person than the way Jonathan had spoken of him. And why was he even here at her home, after her grandmother's funeral? "Very well, thank you," she answered coldly. "But I'm curious as to why you're here. Did you know my grandmother?"

Warner gave her a smile. "Of course I did. Your grandma and I go way back."

 _Way back…_ She tried not to think too much of the fact that Sylvia was involved with this man…this sick son of a bitch who…she couldn't even put that into words. There were no words for what he did to Jonathan. "I wonder how," she said curtly, then turned to Farnsworth. "Jim, I'd like to know when Grandma's will is scheduled tomorrow." She was eager for a change of topic as she was ready to get away from this…this _pig_ who suddenly appeared out of nowhere at her grandmother's funeral.

Farnsworth looked back at her with an apologetic look. "Oh, I'll be bringing it by the house tomorrow at ten o'clock. And, um, if you were wondering, _he -_ " He pointed to Warner with an accusatory finger. "- just arrived with me today. I made it clear that he would not make a pleasant presence among you and your friends."

Warner gave him a look that would have killed a snake. "I had every right to visit the burial of my former fiancée."

At the word - or rather, _revelation_ \- Iris felt like she was going to faint. Now her memory clicked as to who he WAS, besides being the man who - Her grandmother…Sylvia…engaged before she married Grandpa Andrey…to this sicko…this creature who desecrated not only Jonathan's body, but also his _sanity_ … "Okay, that's more than I needed to know. Mr. Warner…" she started, the pretense of not knowing his true title enough to put on the show that she didn't know fooling very well.

"Doctor." The look he gave her could very well match the one she gave him earlier over her correction of title.

"Doctor," she repeated, returning the drawl the same way. "I don't know the slightest thing about you, but I don't know the true reason you think you have a right to do that you showed up at my home, on the day of my grandmother's funeral."

He gave her a sickening smile. "Perhaps explanations are best kept for another time. Other than the fact that I hadn't seen Sylvia in years that I never left her from my mind, but I wanted to meet her lovely granddaughter…whom I understand from what I heard is the youngest doctor of psychology with a PhD, graduated from high school at age twelve and entered Gotham State at barely thirteen, graduated at seventeen, and became head of Arkham Asylum at age twenty." He whistled and winked at her. "All impressive at a young, exceptional age. Not in danger of losing anything anytime soon. But I'm wondering how she got everything so quickly…" The suggestion was evident, and it made her blood boil.

Farnsworth played the part in the hero and ending the conversation. "Okay, Victor, that is enough. Remember this is a young lady and Sylvia DeLaine's granddaughter you're talking to."

The older man chuckled. "Of course, and I apologize again, Dr. DeLaine. Or may I call you Iris?" The politeness was a pretense, and she knew it all too well. He was very much like Dr. Long that way, except what he did in his free time was much worse.

"Call me Dr. DeLaine for now, and I'll consider the latter if it bodes well," Iris replied frostily.

"Well, then, I suppose I ought to be on my way. It was a _pleasure_ meeting you, Dr. DeLaine. And send my regards to your lover, _Jonathan_ , for me." The emphasis on the word "pleasure" and Jonathan's name made her stomach quench, and a thought crossed her mind:

 _Is he back for Jonathan? If he is, then I need to protect him._

"Whoa, are you all right?" She hadn't realized she had collapsed until she was helped by Farnsworth. She didn't feel well at all, but she nodded her head anyways, unable to think straight or speak, other than remember what had just happened…but also tried too hard not to think about the hell from Jonathan's past that had returned.

~o~

"He's back." Edward spoke the poisonous words as he paced the sitting area. "That sick son of a bitch is back, and I didn't see it coming."

"None of us did, sweetie." Joan tried to console him, standing from the chair and walking to where he was, trying to put a hand on his shoulder for comfort, but he kept pacing as if she wasn't even there.

"Joan, baby, you don't know much of anything about him." Edward stopped and turned to face her. "You don't know that he used my father's death as leverage against us so he could make his move on my best friend. He had us both, and there was nothing we could do because our futures were on the line." The moment he looked down at Jonathan, his green eyes met Jon's blues. His face was schooled into an expressionless mask, but his eyes were filled with a void of negative emotions that it was so difficult to decided which was the appropriate word.

"What was it really about this man that made him so dangerous?" Alice questioned nervously. All eyes turned her way.

"Sis, you really don't want to know that answer," Iris said. "It's Jonathan's business - mine and Eddie's, no offense," she added apologetically, "but this isn't for the lighthearted."

Alice gave her a defensive look. "Try me." She glanced to Jon. "What is it about this…Dr. Warner?" Eddie hissed - he had _so_ hated that name ever since college - and saw Jon look down to the floor, his face now twisted. Already he was irritated that Iris' half-sister would even ask him that question the way she did.

"Do you really want to know the answer, _Mrs. Tetch_?" he sneered her name with unbridled acid, like Scarecrow was threatening to resurface again. "I'll tell you what happened. He was my professor back at Gotham State University, and Eddie and I had his class together. Warner was someone I _thought_ I could trust to help me achieve my dream of being a psychiatrist. He was a role model - but I saw, along with Ed, how he always looked at me and tried to make a move on me. But, of course, Edward had to try and be the hero, thought he could get something on Warner to get rid of him - but we both paid for it."

Iris had by then buried her face in her hands. Meanwhile Jervis was biting his lip while trying to hold back tears that were probably threatening to form. Alice was looking at Jonathan with tears of her own falling down her face. "Oh, Jonathan, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to - I had no idea -"

"No, you have _no_ idea what I went through with that…that _monster_!" Jonathan burst out, his face now red around to the ears, abruptly standing tall and towering. "I was forced to sleep with him; how could you _possibly_ understand what that was like?!"

Silence filled the sitting room with the drama of an upcoming execution. Not even a hitch of breath.

There was the sound of a crash and splashing to follow. Edward whipped his head around to see that Joan had accidentally broken the glass of water she'd held, that Iris had given to her and everyone else even though no one was really thirsty. Concern all but ran through him as he reached into his jacket pocket to pull out the handkerchief he'd kept with him everywhere he went and wrapped it around her injury, stitches having to wait for the moment. Joan was a doctor and could handle her own self. As he wrapped her hand up, blood-red staining white, Edward looked up to see Iris' face still in her hands, unable to comprehend the situation - not that he blamed her - and Jervis had all but buried his face in his wife's shoulder to hide his face, and Alice with all but regret on her face and another flood spilling down her face.

"You don't know what it was like to spend so many nights since then as I was taken to his bed so he could take me then and there, make me do things, get in this…positions I could never even dared to imagine, my stomach all but boiling with illness as that disgusting old man had me as his, forced to kneel under his desk so I could…" By then, Jon was pouring out all his emotions, his reddened face shining from open weeping as he let the truth spill through his quivering lips. He trembled, sitting back down on the sofa.

And while all those nights happened, Edward had to just stand by and watch, nothing he could do but go along with it. He couldn't take it anymore. He left Joan where she was and crossed over to where his friend stood. "Jon, please stop." He tried to take him in for an embrace, but was shoved away brusquely.

"NO!" Jon jerked back and leaned against the back of the damask sofa, sobbing. "And then Scarecrow emerged and took over for me. After that last night was over, he took care of Warner for me - and Edward was there, watching it happen. The last I heard from him was he was in delusional mode and in the loony bin, but not Arkham. I thought I'd never see him again…until now."

Iris now removed her face from her hands and moved over to his side, taking him into her arms, her hands rubbing his back, whispering soft words into his ear and placing tender kisses on his face. The sight made Edward's heart melt. He turned from the couple to look up at Joan, seeing her give them the same look he was; she was a doctor, a psychiatrist, and she despised not seeing this sooner. Or even if Jonathan had to trust her with his dark past as he did with Edward, that was his choice to make and she knew it. Then he looked over and met Alice's eyes. Part of him was still angry at her for the way she acted, but it _was_ true. She had no idea what had happened, until now. It would take him awhile to get over this, but now she had her answers - and looked like she regretted it now.

"Well, isn't this a bummer?"

"Harley, Red, what the hell are you two doing here?" Iris jumped up angrily, glaring at the doorway in which the planet vixen and her bubbly harlequin stood, both dressed rather casually despite the fact that they were both wanted at this moment. "You know you two could get me in more trouble than I already am in just by being here."

Pamela held both her hands up in defense. "Honey, calm down. I'm very well aware of that, thank you very much. Harley and I were watching your grandma's funeral when we saw some trouble, popped in as soon as everyone left, and heard Jonathan's story."

Edward supposed he ought to be angry because it was an invasion of privacy, and the same thoughts might as well be written on Jon's face, as well as Iris. She looked at the redhead with a reprimanding look in her eyes. "What brings you both here, then? This man whom I love and this other one -" She nodded at Edward. "- are both in a bad situation as I am, so please help us out so that we can find out what this sicko wants with us."

Harley gave them all a squeal of delight. "Oh, goodie, Red! I'm ready to kick some baddie's ass right now!" There she was again, to lighten up everyone's mood with her childish antics. Edward had always liked her despite her naïveté. Ivy even smiled big at her excitement and gave her a tender pat on the head like a pet.

"Glad you asked, darling. First off, just killing him off just like that is all too easy and too quick. Being so fast, you won't be able to savor the trouble he gets on the way. So the first thing we'll do - and this will take some time - is have some fun with him."

"Something my late puddin' used to do that I managed to teach Red for all she did for me!"

 **So, Dr. Victor Warner is BACK. :D I had it intended all along but could not spoil. ;) I know some of you are wondering how on earth he could have gotten out of the nuthouse for what the boys did to him, but the main point is that he had been cleared for release. Some things are best left mysterious, makes it tastier.**

 **Now that the monster of their past is back and Iris is along for the ride, and with Harley and Ivy aiding the group, the boys need to finish him off as they should have a long time ago. Stay tuned, read and review!**


	21. The Will and the Will to Survive

**Tyler Perry's "Meet the Browns", in particular the reading of the deceased patriarch's Last Will and Testament, also worked itself into the first scene as inspiration, as well as Jonathan's doubts that he did not get anything. Does he now? Read and find out.**

 **Jonathan working as a librarian happened in a few other fics from the past. Some people wonder why he always does, but personality wise, it fits him. :)**

Chapter Twenty

The Will and the Will to Survive

Iris felt like she didn't want to be here today - today was the reading of her grandmother's will, but she felt she should be at the asylum today. The patients needed her, and lately she felt like she'd been taking too much time off from her responsibilities for personal reasons. But hopefully things would get back to the way they were after this.

Except how would things be normal now that the past had come back to haunt Jonathan? And perhaps her?

The reading would be taking place in the sitting area with her and Alice and Jervis. She sat on one sofa, to the right, wearing a form-fitting black dress fronted with a panel of leather for an edgier look, complete with heeled boots and her hair up in her favorite chignon bun. Alice sat on the left in a light turquoise dress and a black lace shrug, hair down, leaning on the back of her palm as they waited for the doorbell to ring. Jonathan had taken off for work three hours prior; he'd been working at the memorial library since the beginning of April, and Iris had been happy for him that he finally got a job that suited him: quiet, not having to deal with people much, and books.

Jervis had been in the kitchen for the last good while, making the tea - one of his many hobbies, something Alice always saw as a side of him she loved. Iris could smell it all the way here already; it was one of her favorite cheery aromas. One of the things that kept her mood lifted.

And then the doorbell rang. She jumped up and bolted out of the sitting room and into the foyer, answering the door herself. "Jim," she said with a little smile. "Thanks for coming."

"Once again, anything for the fabulous DeLaine ladies," he answered with a proud smile. "Except for that one right up there," he added with a disgusted scowl as he motioned for the portrait of Maria DeLaine that still hung up there - only for decoration and curious guests who didn't know the late model and wondered what she'd looked like. There she was standing in a dress that matched her then-straightened hair - her styles warped time to time - in a "striking" pose with her arms above her head and against a swirling background of modernism, the colors of white, bloody red, soft lavender, and grayish blue mixing dramatically. Her green eyes were surrounded by applied mascara and grayish shadow, eyebrows carefully and masterfully plucked and penciled, and her full red lips were set in a neutral expression.

Next to it was one of Iris herself, the artist taking pride in making the daughter more natural and realistic than the one of her mother, for Iris sat on a lush green ground someplace near her grandmother's estate the time this was painted. She was in a flowy white dress that set off her ebony hair, surrounded by soft blue flowers that complemented her eyes, and a creek that rested calmly at the present time. How amazingly contrasted the portraits were in terms of the women's beauty, nature, and their complexities. "Good thing that her daughter turned out much better than she ever did," Farnsworth commented as Iris led him into the living area, where Alice stood from her seat with a little smile. "I'd ask how you ladies are holding up, but I already know the answer."

"Thanks for understanding," Alice said kindly. "Please sit."

"Would you care for some tea, Mr. Farnsworth?" Jervis asked, entering from the kitchen with the blue willow china used for special occasions - tray, teapot and three cups and saucers - and the smell of English chamomile and mint filling the air.

"Oh, thanks, I suppose." Farnsworth accepted his with vigor that said he hadn't had his own - or whatever he had in the mornings - just yet. "My favorite. Now should we get started here?"

"I'd love to get this over with, yes," Alice answered, and Iris swore she saw another tear threatening to fall. Not all tears were evil. She looked away back to the old lawyer as she sipped from her cup, savoring the flavor of fruit and honey.

"Well, then, here is the Last Will and Testament of Sylvia DeLaine." Farnsworth cleared his throat as he set his cup down on its saucer and drew the paper from the folder he brought with him and began to read it aloud.

"'I, Sylvia DeLaine, bequeath the following possessions to the last of my family, and their loved ones. To my granddaughter, Alice, and her handsome husband Jervis Tetch, I leave my house and all it comes with.'"

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Iris felt her heart leap as she looked over to see her sister's face and Jervis' light up.

Alice clutched her heart with both hands and gave the show of tearing up like a toddler. "Thank you, Grandma," she said to the heavens.

"'To my granddaughter, Iris, I leave my rental property.'"

That got her attention like a cat. Grandma Sylvia owned a lake house out in the Palisades, and she would always take her granddaughters out during the summertime in college. Before Iris and Alice discovered their blood lineage, it had been just Iris with Grandma Sylvia to escape from her mother's clutches. The lake house was another sanctuary besides her personal quarters and her hidden lab for her Empress activities. And now it was hers.

"May I ask where your boyfriend, Jonathan, is?" Farnsworth asked.

"At work at the memorial library. Why?" Iris frowned. She was beginning to think that her grandmother left something for Jonathan. If she did, then whatever it was had to be very important. And Farnsworth confirmed it.

"Well, Sylvia left something for him, too." He then reached into his black leather messenger back to pull out a beautiful wooden box with a metal floral design. "This is the last thing in her will, and when I met her on her deathbed, she told me very personally and very clearly that it had to be delivered to him and him only."

~o~

Jonathan _loved_ his librarian job. It suited his personality indefinitely: quiet, not having to deal with people, and books. Over two months before he began, as library assistant, but now he was full librarian in charge. The one who'd hired him had retired and left it all to him, and he loved every minute of it. It wasn't much like it had been running Arkham, but at least he was happy, and Iris handling the asylum was good enough for him.

As he stacked a couple of horror books - _The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_ and _Dracula_ \- in their places, he wondered how she, Alice, and Jervis were handling the reading of Sylvia's will without him. Reasons for not being there were the same, that there was nothing left for him. Why should there be, after all? There wasn't anything he could think of that Sylvia could give him.

"Would the good doctor be so kind as to help me find what I'm looking for?"

Jonathan froze. He knew that voice - a voice he had spent so much of the last decade trying so hard to erase from his mind forever. "Whatever is it that you want my help with, Professor?" he replied with a sneer, turning around to regard him with that same frosty glare he'd often given people like Carmine Falcone.

Warner laughed airily as if he'd told a joke. "My, Jonathan, aren't you as feisty as I remember you?" He lifted his hand and raised it to rest it on his shoulder, but Jonathan would _not_ be touched by this monster again. He withdrew as far away as possible.

"Don't touch me," he hissed. Warner's eyes narrowed.

"You don't like this, I take it?"

"You really feel like continuing what happened in the past again, you are gravely mistaken," Jonathan said. "Now what do you want?"

"Just looking for the latest edition of _The Art of Psychosis_ ," his former professor replied smoothly.

"Aisle D-G," Jonathan responded. "And I'm not accompanying you there. Just find what you're looking for and meet me at the front desk. And then get the hell out of here."

Warner chuckled. "Do you talk this way to all of your customers?"

Jonathan could feel his blood boil, but his cool remained on the outside. "You're still the same sick son of a bitch as I remembered you. You tell me if you're still chasing after attractive young men and women with bright, solid futures and intellectual minds that you see as the advantage to lure into your bed and act out your disgusting, twisted pleasures?"

The older man's eyes narrowed again, lips tightened into a thin line. "I'll take that as a yes. And by the way…" He leaned in close so Jonathan could smell his hot breath that he often had nearly retched after inhaling. "…I haven't forgotten those nights at all."

He watched as the man from his nightmares stalked off to where he'd told him to go, trying his hardest to calm himself down. He still had no idea how he'd regained control of his own mind and was set to walk free. And why was he here, popping up at Sylvia's funeral of all days and speaking to Iris? Also, he could not forget the way he was looking at her…the same way he often looked at Jonathan…

"Everything I need is all ready." Warner met him at the librarian's check-out desk. "So, how is life after the nuthouse? The very one you ran and then lost for the life of a criminal - and a career path you so ambitiously sought after in school and received from my help." He gave him a look that said it all.

"You're sick," Jonathan spat as he scanned the last of the books. "You were sick then and you are now. You have no damn idea what I've been through to end up that way."

"Try me. Poisoning a city to fund your sadistic ways. I knew there was something off about you the moment we met."

"It was research and nothing else more!" Jonathan realized he'd almost raised his voice, and lowered it down. "I don't know why I'm telling you all of this, but the day Eddie defended me against you, you threatened to ruin my life as well as his. I'll tell you that the way I grew up was none of my fault, as it was clear that you believed I was beyond troubled. I was raised under the wing of a fanatically religious old woman - my grandmother - because my mother was unmarried when she bore me and then left me. The other students at school were no better with more pain I endured. And you, Professor… _you_ helped it all the more. You depraved me, desecrated, _violated_ my body for your twisted desires. You knew how to lure an unsuspecting victim into a trap." He leaned forward to hiss the last part: "And I should have killed you on that last night when I had the chance."

Warner had paled by then, and then he opened to reply to all this, but then another voice cleared a throat. "Forgive me, but is everything all right?" It was Mr. Farnsworth, Sylvia's lawyer. Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief.

"No, sir. He was just leaving." He gave his former professor a killing look - of course he hoped that was what it was - as he handed him his stack of books. "I trust you have everything?"

"Pretty much," Warner replied, his voice and gaze clearly telling him he wasn't finished with him, before walking through the double doors.

"Was he bothering you, son?" Farnsworth asked, glaring first at the doors and then turning to look at Jonathan sympathetically.

"You could say that," Jonathan answered. "He's a bad reminder of my past. A very bad reminder."

"He was one of Sylvia's, too," the lawyer said, surprising him at once. Warner _knew_ Sylvia DeLaine? The man named _Victor_ was the very same one Iris' grandmother had almost married before her husband Andrey? "But perhaps it's best if we take this elsewhere."

Jonathan looked up at the clock and noticed now was his lunch break. "I'm on lunch break now. Let's continue in my office."

His office was wonderfully crafted and carved from warm cherry wood - from the ceiling to the bookshelves, to the walls and floor - to give it a homely rustic feel. His desk was the same, with plenty of surface space, and resting on top of an amazing floral rug of reds, browns, and navy. Jonathan walked over to his desk, sitting in the warm brown leather chair after retrieving his lunch salad and getting an extra for Farnsworth as he didn't want to be rude. "So, what's this all about?"

The lawyer stared down at the food tray in his lap for a second as if trying to find the right way to tell him. "Well," he said after a moment, "as it turns out…Sylvia and Victor Warner were…an item. Long before she married Andrey DeLaine. They were engaged."

Jonathan suddenly felt as if he'd lost his appetite. "She told me so."

"Everyone in the family, and myself, know the story of her own family eager to marry her off to good money, and Warner was far from it. But what happened with him during the time before she was with her true love, Andrey, was that with Warner, he worshipped her like she was a queen, despite the fact he was not good money. I'm sure she told you he is originally from New York, having traveled to Russia and found her there. They were together for two years before she tired of her mother's constant persistence at pushing for a wedding date, but not long before she ended the relationship and engagement."

"Did he ever find her again?" Jonathan asked, fear creeping into his heart.

Farnsworth nodded. "She shared everything with me. I've been her attorney for thirty years. After she married Andrey DeLaine and had a son, Marcus - Iris' father - and moved here to Gotham, Victor Warner found her again, but since she was already taken, he all but gave up trying to reclaim her. Because another reason Sylvia left him was because she secretly investigated into his past and found out that he was a suspected sex offender in one case, but it was never proven in the courts."

 _So I'm not the first,_ Jonathan realized with a sickness in his gut, overwhelming him to his senses. "So, yes, my boy, Sylvia told me that when she heard what happened to you when you were still attending Gotham State - she investigated into your life, of course, with all the impressive sources I could give her - she found out who the perpetrator was. Even found out where he'd been this whole time after being in a mental hospital. Somehow his instability was stabilized so he could get on with life."

"And she didn't report it?" Jonathan was shocked that this had never been told to him before. All he knew for sure was that Farnsworth was telling him all of this now for a reason.

"There was no proof, remember?" the man reminded him gently. "But…she knew that someday sooner or later, he would make his appearance, and that you and Iris and your friends would be the ones to put a stop to him once and for all."

Jonathan leaned back into his chair, overwhelmed. Warner was back, but it wasn't for Sylvia, who was now dead. "You knew about him. You knew about his betrothal to Sylvia. You knew everything. Please tell me why he's here."

Sadly, Farnsworth sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't think of an answer to that. But I believe that…from the way he was looking at Iris…he might have his eye on her."

His worst fear come alive. First he took Jonathan's body, now he had his attentions on Iris, the only woman he'd ever loved. Jonathan clenched his jaw and looked out the elegant arched glass window to stare at the view of the city. If the old man planned to do the same, he'd be damned to protect Iris like Eddie did the same for him years ago…except he wasn't going to respond with violence or threats. Ivy and Harley had promised they had other ideas. And besides, knowing Jervis, he had his own creative ways to deter Warner from taking Iris.

"Jonathan, I would advise doing everything you can to protect Iris. Sylvia knew, as I do, that you two have connections." He then leaned over in the side of his chair to open up his messenger bag to open it and pull something out. "The other real reason I needed to see you is because of this. Sylvia left this for you in her will. I wanted to give it to you at the house, but Iris said I'd find you here."

Jonathan frowned as he took in the sight of the rosewood box fashioned with an intricate floral design, both in the wood and the running metal inlay. "I had assumed she didn't have anything for me."

Farnsworth laughed as he handed it to him. "Oh, dear boy, Sylvia was very particular when she said that her youngest granddaughter's boyfriend meant everything to her as much as both her granddaughters did. Jervis, too." He gave a short nod at the box. "She said its contents were of importance, and that you would know what to do when the time was right."

The way he said "importance" meant as it was said. Jonathan quickly looked up to the clock. His lunch break was almost over by half an hour, so he had time to see what was inside the box. With Farnsworth watching, he lifted the lid up, glimpsing a folded piece of creamy paper and a small drawstring pouch of blue silk embroidered with silver thread into an exquisite and delicate flower pattern. This he opened first, and soon found the contents lying in his palm: a bridal ring duo as well as a slightly thicker one for the groom. The wedding band for the bride was dominated with diamonds that twinkled like stars, but the engagement band was plainer, except in its center was a lovely setting created into the lotus flower petals - all "petals" also set with winking diamonds - and centered with a brilliant, larger black diamond… _as black as Iris' raven hair_ , he realized. This very unique ring pair made him realize that it was very symbolic of her and him in so many ways, given their past lives and molding away from the shackles of society. The lotus symbolized rebirth, and that was what happened: the broken, abused children they'd started out as early in life died at some points, and with the aid of each other, returned fresh and anew. They'd been made for each other. As for the groom's band, it was symbolic of how rough life was but that you could handle it; its surface was durable black steel.

He stared at the rings, smiling to himself until he looked up to see Farnsworth giving him a little knowing smile, then nodded to the paper that still lay inside the box. Jonathan put the rings back into the pouch and read the letter by Sylvia.

 _Dearest Jonathan,_

 _By the time you receive this letter and these rings, I am long gone from this world. I knew my time would be coming, but I only wished I'd lived longer to spend more time and watch my youngest granddaughter one day marry the man she loves, the one she would have been scorned for as I had been for mine. But the only way to make up for leaving so soon is giving you this gift that was mine long ago - these rings were mine and Andrey's. The man before Andrey is a terrible memory of your own past. I know what my former fiancée, Victor Warner - before I married my beloved Andrey - did to you, but I did not pressure you as I knew how you would feel. You can imagine how I felt when I learned what he really was, but how can a young woman know the man she once loved for a short time was the monster he is? I knew sooner or later he would one day return, but I did my battle with him. Knowing you and what transpired between you two, you would gather your strength to finish him off yourself once and for all. Just know that having exposing your actions to the public's eye would result in a fate worse than death, and taking you away from our Iris. She needs you, and I know you need her, too. I know you want her for the rest of your life because of my experiences with Andrey. Just be warned: Warner may or may not try to take Iris for his own as he tried to me, but you and my granddaughter are not alone in this battle - which hopefully is the last with that monster._

 _These rings I leave for you to give to Iris at the time you know in your heart is right. But please remember, my dear future grandson-in-law, that you should never let regret take place if you lose that. In fact, don't wait until too late for the opportunity. You and Iris were made for each other. Do what your heart tells you, and remember that the will to love is the will to survive._

"Thank you, Sylvia," Jonathan whispered as he lowered the paper, closing his fingers around the rings in his hand.

~o~

"Dr. DeLaine, what a surprise to see you at an unlikely hour of the day."

Iris smiled but pulled her coat around her as she descended the stairs into the basement cellar - far from the others in Arkham for this one special inmate who touched her heart as much. After the exhilaration of being swarmed by colleagues and patients for apologies and sympathies over her grandmother's passing and returning, she had decided it upon herself to visit the cell of another one of her favorite patients personally - this room was below zero and the risk of hypothermia and eventually freezing to death, but she would not be here long. "Hello to you, Victor. I merely came here to see how your work was progressing and to ask you for some personal advice."

Victor Fries gave no hint of suspicion as he always had for other seldom visitors, especially those who did not tolerate his subzero environment. The head doctor seldom visited his cell, not that they didn't shared a bond as she had with the other members of the infamous Rogue Gallery. Chances were he would never get out of Arkham because there was no hope for reviving his body back to its original state before the accident at GothCorps; damn Ferris Boyle for that. He looked to the ceiling-high glass vessel filled with bubbling, glowing blue fluids, and floating in it was the ethereal figure of a woman in blue - his beloved wife whom had long been stricken with an inoperable disease that left him no other options but to freeze her until he found a cure. Sadly all of that ended in vain. "Coming along very well, thank you, doctor. The credit going to you for your warm heart in terms of the funds, and every day I draw near to reviving my beloved Nora, but my condition will prevent me from being with her again."

The way he spoke of his wife paralleled very well to her and Jonathan. She smiled and nodded, her chilled hormones temporarily forgotten. "You would do anything for her; that's why you and her are still so perfect that everyone tried tearing you apart. That's not so different from myself and the man I love." Nora was the life he had never wanted to lose because he had never been treated with such love the way she gave him. Beautiful both inside and out, Fries wanted to have her for the rest of his life - but then the accident and her illness happened. The world was cruel to them as it was to her and Jonathan, and the others. When Nora was dying, it was like Victor himself was dying, too. They were linked.

Which meant if she lost Jonathan, her life would end both symbolically and physically. Jonathan would not take the loss of her, either. "If you want my advice," Mr. Freeze said, making her look up at him again, "then it is to do everything in your power, no matter what it takes, to hold the one you love with your grasp, even if a force tries to fight you."

Iris found herself throwing her arms around him for a hug. She knew what she was doing, but she didn't care. All she knew was that this man had helped her as much as her sister did, as much as her grandmother, as much as the others did, and as much as Jonathan did. This caught Fries off-guard as no one had touched him this way for so long. He returned the embrace nevertheless, and took a moment to gather himself. "I understand, my dear. Thank you for everything."

She returned to her office, breathing relief when she was back in the warmth of room temperature. She slipped off the coat to show a buttoned-down white blouse with the sleeves to the elbows and tight black pants and boots, but she didn't have the chance to sit down first to get settled in for her next session when the messenger on her office phone rang up. _"Dr. DeLaine, there's someone who'd like to see you,"_ Barb spoke.

Iris frowned as she pressed the "talk" button. "Tell whoever it is that I'm about to see a patient in fifteen minutes."

 _"It's a Dr. Warner from Gotham State. He says he'd like only five minutes. Says he can't wait for another time."_

Iris felt her nerves leap at the mention of her new nightmare, but sighed in exasperation. He was going to answer to her sharp tongue like he did at the funeral. "Thanks then, Barb. Whatever he wants to keep me from my patients," she grumbled under her breath as she finally sat down, "will know there will be hell to pay." No sooner had she said that did the door knock. "Come in," she called, trying to sound professional.

The door opened, and he walked in tall and smiling sickly. "Dr. DeLaine."

"I thought you were aware that I am about to soon see a patient," Iris said coldly. "What do you want? You want five minutes, so get on with it."

He seated himself down in the blue chair, relaxing in it like he'd owned it as he smirked at her fold of the arms and attempts to be superior over him. "I did say that, yes. I trust you know my history with your grandmother, correct?"

"You and her engaged before she married my grandfather, of course."

"And so I shall be straight with you without riding around the roadblock. Let's just say that since I couldn't have your grandmother, I've had other…pursuits…" The way he said that made her sick. "…that I've suddenly grown tired of and I feel like something else came to mind. So, Iris…"

"Dr. DeLaine," she snapped. "I'd have hoped you hadn't forgotten our agreement."

"Of course not." Warner leaned forward in the chair. "What I came here for is for a proposition. I find you a very fascinating woman, and I would love to see you and get to know you more often if you would agree to one thing and one thing only."

She felt her blood run cold, but she forced a twisted smirk on her face. "And whatever would that be, doctor?"

"That you never see your lover ever again."

 **Ooooh, Warner is a dead man for making her not see Jonathan again. (demon rage) Things are going to be a hilarious and death-wish-of-a-battle from there, I promise you that.**

 **A scene between Mr. Freeze and Scarecrow from "A Misled Lamb" by Thunderscourge (a Batman: Arkham Asylum game story) over Nora inspired me for the one between him and Iris. :)**

 **A tiny bit of Jonathan meeting with Farnsworth also came from a scene in Saw V (I love that franchise, too, so later on you'll see some "torture porn" from there ;D) in which Jigsaw's widow received a box of mysterious contents in his will. It was that little bit when he told her he'd be long gone from the world and that she was his "heart and always will be" was touching despite the fact he was a murderer.**

 **I've always loved Victor and Nora Fries, and so did Vytina. But we never saw him as a villain, only a shell of a man going for vengeance because he grieves for losing the one he loved most - as quoted by Paul Dini, one of the creators of BTAS. All he did was try and help his wife.**


	22. Of Belly Dances and Past Performances

**A very beautiful flashback performance before the present was based off of one in the movie "Memoirs of a Geisha", called the Snow Dance. The summary of the performance comes from someone who gave the storytelling of the dance while commenting on the YouTube video.**

 **As well, the present dance in the chapter title was based off the concert version of Sarah Brightman's "Arabian Nights", which is the very same one in here. :) The opening vocals are to DIE for.**

 **This is also the containment of the last of "Now We Are Free".**

Chapter Twenty-One

Of Belly Dances and Past Performances

"Does he have a death wish to think that you would ever agree to this?!" Eddie all but exploded when Iris broke the news to him, Jonathan, and the others later that evening. He sat tensed in his chair in the sitting area, but Joan was trying so hard to get him to calm down, her attempts vain.

"Yeah, what gives him the right to make you not be with your Jonny boy?" Harley asked as she leaned in on her beloved vixen while sharing a look with Jonathan.

"It's _Jonathan_ ," he returned with an aggressive snarl. He was just as enraged as Eddie was tonight as it was. First the sick son of a bitch cornered him at his own library, and then he visited Iris' asylum with a so-called proposition in which she was to never see Jonathan again. The latter part made his temper rise all the more. Eddie was hella right as much as he was; what the hell gave Warner - who had said nearly the same thing to him years ago when he lured him into the place that almost successfully destroyed his chances with the woman he loved - to do this to her?

Iris stood from the sofa and proceeded to pace the space between them. "You're all right. He doesn't have the right. But I never thought I'd say this…I'm scared."

Jonathan found himself jumping up and reaching her side, pulling her close to him. "Don't be," he told her, the protective side of him taking over at once. "You're not alone in this. Eddie and I both know what he's like, so we know how to handle him."

"That's right," Eddie agreed. "But…" He held up one finger in figuration. "…we're not going to let him put his hands on our girl, right guys?" Everyone agreed loudly and affirmatively.

"You're damn right, Nygma," Pamela said, standing right up like the general in command. "And this means I've got the opportunity to reveal our plan right away, but for now…" Her emerald green eyes zoomed in Jonathan's direction with Iris. "I think the lady herself needs some alone time with the bookworm until I'm done."

Jonathan was flabbergasted. Why wouldn't she tell him and Iris now? Iris looked the same as she asked, "Why won't you tell me now?" she asked suspiciously. "Is it because I won't like the plan?"

"Trust her, Blue, it'll be worth it; now Jonny, take her out of here while we brief the troops." Harley nodded in emphasis to Ivy and the rest of the group. Jonathan sighed in irritation as he guided her out of the sitting room. He wasn't even sure what to say or think at the moment except have the feeling that whatever Harley had planned was crazy enough - given what her late boyfriend was infamous for that she had to pass on - and he hoped it involved the slow death of Warner like he should have done a long time ago. Whilst he'd been pleased with getting the old man released from Gotham State and wound up in the nuthouse, he hadn't seen any of this coming. He'd been hurt then and wasn't going to let the same happen to his Iris. He hoped what Harley and Ivy had in mind would be worth it.

"I hope she doesn't do anything that wounds you up back in Arkham - and perhaps me in there with you," she murmured quietly, staring out at her opened window to stare at the darkening sky. "Or worse, both of us in Blackgate."

"I don't think Pamela would allow that, but Harley could always make a slip of something herself," Jonathan tried to assure her, also trying not to be concerned about the serious possibilities. "There is nothing to be afraid of." he pushed her hair behind her shoulder and kissed the outer shell of her ear gently.

"That doesn't scare me - it's because Warner made me forbidden to see you. I don't know much about him other than what you told me, and I fear of what he's capable of doing if he finds out you're still here…"

"He won't, and if he tries anything, then I'll give him a dose of your poison. Would you love to see that?" he asked her with a twitch of a sneaky smile that made her smile back for the first time that night. "Now, how about me distracting you from this mess?" With each word, he started unbuttoning her shirt from the first button down. "I'll start by removing these obstacles called clothes..."

~o~

"What the hell was HARLEY thinking, organizing this?!" Jonathan nearly raised his voice as he looked around the scene of the club they were in, called the Pleaser. _Silly, erotic, ironic, obvious name,_ Edward thought as he nodded in agreement. Tuesday night for the after-work male part of the crowd to indulge in this stuff, given most of them were unable to see a woman outside of work anyways.

"Well, all she and Pam did say was that they were gonna draw Warner into the trap," he said. "I don't like this anymore than you do, but at least this is a start. Step number one." He yelled over to the bar wench in a tight white tee and black shorts, her mousy brown hair in a ponytail. "Give us two Smirnoffs, please."

"There he is." He looked over to see where the man they were looking for was sitting alone at one of the tables. "Just makes me want to down more than one drink tonight and go over there and do what I want to him."

"And get your drunken ass in jail," Edward pointed out, making Jon turn and scowl at him, and it only made him laugh. "What? You know it will happen."

"Better reason than to have him put his hands on my Iris," Jonathan snarled warningly.

Edward held up his hands. "Hey, hey, don't get huffy with me. He won't so much as lay a hand on her the way a tipper would a stripper." Now that he said those words, what was he thinking? Both he and Jonathan cringed at his comparison, but eventually turned their attentions to the stage just as some _very exotic_ Middle Eastern drums began their beats, and a woman of that descent on the stage, wearing a purple sari and her wild dark hair bushing down her back uttered a string of Hindu vocals as four dancers sashayed and pranced onto the stage. Their costumes were rather revealing and yet too irresistible to look away from: two were short, but one being vivid fuchsia pink and the other soft green, both dangling with golden coins that jiggled with every movement, while the other two were longer and from more Eastern culture - one was Arabic with a golden jeweled brassiere and a black chiffon skirt, the other Chinese and all gold and embellished with beading and star-twinkling gems. The odd but clever addition was that they all wore decorative Venetian half-masks in association with the colors of their garments. Edward knew that the blonde in pink was Harley, given that she'd often excitedly told him and her Mistah J and the others that her favorite color was pink, and the redhead in green was Pamela, none other.

And then the show really started when another dancer made her appearance. This one really stood out among the other girls with her sultry royal blue set and the jingling silver coins dominating both top and bottom piece. Her long black hair flowed down her back, partially held back by a simpler Venetian mask from her backups, this being blue and silver with, from what he could tell from afar, bejeweled colored braid. And then her voice filled the room:

 _Voyage_

 _Voyage_

 _Wilderness to wilderness_

 _I traveled from afar_

 _On the soft wind of the Nadq came_

 _Fragrance of Araar_

 _Splendor of a thousand suns shone glory in my path_

 _No love more pure and rage more fierce_

 _Could still my beating heart_

 _Voyage_

 _Voyage_

"I remember back when she was thirteen, during our first year at Gotham State, she performed for the end of the year recitals," Jon said over his drink as he watched her perform, while at the same time, sneering at the way Warner looked her over like the way Edward remembered him looking at Jon long ago. Giving him a good reason to remove him from the world, sooner the better.

~o~

 _9 years ago…_

Professor Crane sat three rows away from the front. He'd reserved this seat only weeks before just so that he wouldn't lose the opportunity to miss being close to watch his best and favorite student perform. Ten of the "brightest young students" - _indeed_ , he thought, choosing to think of Iris as the top of all of them - would be on the stage performing something they'd done from the heart. Scientifically, there was a zero chance that _all_ or at least a handful of them would perform what they did on their own, most likely to plagiarize something that had already been done. But Iris, knowing how talented she was and given that she was taught to dance by her grandmother, would outshine all of them. But from what he read in the brochure he'd been given, she was saved until the very end. _Save the best for last_ , he thought with a satisfied smile.

It was then that the lights darkened, save for a couple of blues and silver to add to the mood of the performance. Gracefully and slowly floating onto the stage was the haunting figure of a young woman in a long black kimono of pure silk, covered all over in golden, red, and orange flowers in a Tachibana pattern. She spread her arms out on either side of her to announce her entrance to the audience. Her very appearance raptured the attention of all beings alike, from the staff - such as Dr. Long and Crane himself - and her fellow students who looked on in awe at the sight of not only her luxurious robe and the music that played, but also her face: it was the very resemblance to a Japanese geisha, with the essence of exotic and time honored beauty. Her visage was flawlessly covered with a ghostly, pure white foundation, eyes and brows penciled and lined with black for lightly winged looks, and her full lips given a defined pucker with a delicious red apple color and a radiant satiny shine to make the petals of her mouth stand out the best amid her ethereally fair flesh. Her smooth mane of ebony hair, normally curled, was pearlized and shined and fixed for a straight curtain down her back, but some tumbling over her shoulders to frame her face.

Jonathan doubted this, but he could see that her bright sapphire eyes literally popped out like the gems that they were amid that created perfection.

On top of that, Iris looked like the flower that she was.

Very slow and harmonious music began, as Iris - known in the dance as the _Airisu_ , which translated to "iris" in Japanese - looked over her shoulder with a worried expression before continuing her activity in giving the audience a good show of herself, displaying her crystalline beauty with the silky smooth hand motions, pointing in every direction, pausing directly at _him_.

For a moment, Jonathan was slightly worried about people turning his way, but as he looked from every corner of his eye, no heads turned his way, instead concentrating on the beautiful performer, where she was currently showered with glittering "snow", and her eyes were locked with his, setting the foundation overall for the story. The story was about a young princess waiting for her true love from spring to the whole year round when it snowed, but the shackles of society prevented her from ever being with him. As winter progressed, the more she began to die of depression and heartache…like a flower nearing the end of its time. She tried so hard to fight against all the feelings of bitterness, sadness, and the pain she felt. So therefore she wandered out into the winter night, naked and desolate, knowing he would find her. And so she died out in the snow, alone and frozen, hoping to reunite with her love in death. All of this began when the music took on a faster, aggravating tone with the drums, and Iris flung aside her robe to show more of her underneath.

Jonathan Crane could not contain his sudden intake of breath.

Her white foundation covered all of the rest of her body, from the neck down and every limb, and that meant the fingers and toes included. This under costume was more revealing and yet nature-inspired at the same time. The brassiere had a halter neck while the skirt had a slit in the front for more ease as she flung herself about the stage with so much energy to the sad mood of the story, progressing to the death of the delicate flower - delicate being the appropriate word for a girl bound by law to marry for status and power, never love, therefore shattering her will so easily. The entire ensemble was as black as her hair and much of the darkened auditorium, but the silvery white lights danced off the colored beadworks and glass seeds in the colors of teal - both blue and green - along with a green the color of certain plant leaves Crane was familiar with, and some gold to bring out very little happiness, finally tipped with beautiful large clear blue teardrops.

It was then that she finally succumbed to "death" and fell to the snow-covered stage that the audience cheered for her beauty and talent, but the performance was far from over, and the _Airisu_ had another show for them. The lights soon changed to a glowing ruby red, and then there was music that he recognized so well. It was his favorite song, as it was hers. She arose then and shook off the snow so that she was anew, like the flower blooming again in the spring for new life. Much like the tragic couple spending eternity in the supposed afterlife.

 _La la da pa da le na da na_

 _Ve va da pa da le na la dumda_

 _La la da pa da le na da na_

 _Ve va da pa da le na la dumda_

 _La la da pa da le na da na_

 _Ve va da pa da le na la dumda_

 _La la da pa da le na da na_

 _Ve va da pa da le na la dumda_

Her voice was pure magic that words did no justice, and Crane was very much aware of how his spirit soared. Her eyes closed briefly at the slow, flowing pause before reopening them and finishing.

 _Anol shalom (Almighty freedom)_

 _Anol sheh ley kon-nud de ne um (Almighty freer of the soul)_

 _Flavum (Be free)_

 _Flavum (Be free)_

 _M-ai shondol-lee (And imagine)_

 _Flavu (Free)_

 _Lof flesh lay (With peace at last)_

 _Nof ne (It's lovely)_

 _Nom de lis (It's lovely, this land)_

 _Ham de num um dass (No one can believe or understand)_

 _La um de (How far I came)_

 _Flavne (Just for my lovely family)_

 _Flay (I should have been there with them)_

 _Shom de nomm (When the world crashed down)_

 _Ma-lun des dwondi (But now they rest with me)_

 _Dwwoondi (I'll never forget)_

 _Alas sharum du koos (How I felt that moment_

 _Shaley koot-tum (I became free)_

The whole time Iris sang _Now We Are Free_ , she remained standing where she was, instead making swift and graceful motions with her arms, until it came to the fast-paced part and then she swirled to each word before stopping and assuming the same earlier position for the rest of the song. Jonathan found himself entranced by her. She was absolutely amazing. This was a side to her he had never seen before, and he was proud of her. He found himself clapping with the rest of the audience with pride and…a feeling he was beginning to think was what he feared he would have for a girl of only thirteen and a bright shining future in front of her. He would not sink to that level that he'd been through right up until graduation from this very same school. He would _not_ betray Iris' trust that way.

~o~

 _Today_

Not that she hated dancing and singing - she actually loved both of them - but it was because she had to do this for _him_. This was all Harley's idea really, that Joker would have done the same - Harley declaring her "puddin" a genius made Iris decide she wanted to lock him back up in Arkham herself right after tonight IF he'd been here. She'd have to settle on locking Harley back up after tonight, but then she'd have no backup for any of this.

 _So should I return to trace the shadows of my chases_

 _My steps will echo there from sand to stone_

 _I will never let my eyelids close on empty spaces_

 _My dreams will find the void with tales unknown_

 _Know the mighty infinite obscures the far horizon_

 _The whispered road I take will never bend_

 _Alone_

 _And will the wind return my story to its promise_

 _Or will my story chase me to my end_

The dancers all but left the stage to do their things on the pole tables, which meant that her target was at one of them, and it was right near the end of the stage. He had his eyes on her the whole time she was performing, never seeming to suspect who she was but some random masked dancer for his own amusement. Well, she would give him the tip on who she really was once the party was over. Without making it look suspicious to anyone's eyes, she seductively waltzed over to the table after removing her hands from her waist - she'd kept a hidden written note inside the secret pocket cleverly sewn inside the skirt - and dropped the slip into his hand as she got up on the table to continue, this time continuing in the same Hindu language that the beginning vocalist had done so. As she continued to sway her hips, dip so that some of her thighs got his attention, she saw him briefly read the little note: _It's me, your girl of choice. How about some fun after tonight, say a Friday night date?_

The look he gave her after reading it said it all. Her stomach sank.

"You did it, Blue!" Harley squealed once they were out of the club and into an alleyway to change back into regular clothes. "You got him wrapped around your little finger."

"But I don't know if I can handle it," Iris gasped out, leaning forward and feeling her stomach grow worse than it was. "He's a pig, the whole looks of him…he makes me sick…"

Jonathan was at her side at once. "Oh, don't get sick now," he tried to soothe her as he rubbed her back gently. "I know what you're feeling because that was how I felt, but I fought it back down, lucky me." He gave a humorless laugh.

"You know, that's what I'm also afraid of, still…for you." Iris managed to pull herself together and stand up straight. "What if he comes and visits me at the house and sees you still there? I have very little options: either I lock you in your room while he's here and sneak you some food when he's not looking - which is very difficult, just thinking about it - or I leave you to stay with Alice and Jervis."

"I'd stick to the first," Jonathan answered. "It's my home even though I'm not paying for it."

His answer shocked her and Eddie as well. "Jon, are you serious? What if he ever stumbled across you during one of his little trips, and what if he gets suspicious about a certain locked door?"

Iris realized how right he was, but there were plenty of ideas she had to keep him from wandering the upstairs hall. "I'll make sure he doesn't get there," she said. "I'll use my charms…" She winked at them, suddenly liking where everything was going now. It had become clear that she was the one in charge, not this creepy old man who thought he would have what he couldn't have this time. Now she trusted Harley with all her crazy schemes. Perhaps she should thank her and the late "genius" after all. "So, what's the next step, girls? Until Friday night?"

"Well, he doesn't have your number, I don't believe," Pamela purred, "so he's bound to visit you in your office again to let you know about the time of day. In the meantime…" Her natural eyes twinkled with mischief. "I got yet _another_ great idea…which involves giving him a hard time here. Let's get back to the house and get to business."


	23. Prank Calls and a Date Night

**I had been busy with a couple of my DS9 fics as well as struggling with the beginning of this one. The original version of it was pretty crude that Vytina was wary of it and said it wasn't in Iris' character even though it was funny as hell and based off a certain phone call made by Will Ferrell in "The Campaign". I revamped the original and made it still inappropriate but otherwise safer - and the results are still hilarious. XD**

Chapter Twenty-Two

Prank Calls and a Date Night

 _"Hey, you big old hunk of a professor. This is your call girl calling. I had realized you never gave me the date and place where we will have our Friday night date. Swing by during the day to let me know. Oh, and I almost forgot. While we're there, how about we do something crazy weird like get wild and crazy in the bathroom? I have all of the necessary equipment available. And now I have to go. I have to return to work. Don't forget to stop by the workplace near the end of the day."_

~o~

 _"This is something to die for, I'm telling you."_ Edward was almost laughing his lungs out, or rather his ass off from what Iris was picturing in her office. She sat at her desk near noon, doing just what she was doing, eating a turkey sandwich and melon slices for her lunch break, wearing her tight black silk dress with a plunging neckline this time paired with her white blouse buttoned down by four, patent pumps, and her hair bunned. And Eddie was detailing what he'd caught on camera thanks to help from Jervis' genius spy tech devices implanted in Warner's phone while the message played itself aloud in his voicemail - even better than speakerphone - for the whole class to hear during a lecture the professor was giving. _"Okay? I loved every second of it."_

"I wish I'd seen it myself," Iris said as she took another bite from her sandwich. "I would have fingered myself to it but imagined that Jonathan was the one I sent it to."

Eddie guffawed loud on the other line from his office at Competitron. _"Seriously, doc, that's_ more _than I needed to know! But here's this, and I'm telling you right now, those poor students were disgusted and most likely to have bad dreams from the images conjured up in their poor little minds later on. And Dr. Long, who happened to stop by for a visit, is hopping mad. That makes the situation even more troubling for Warner thanks to the bug that prevented him from turning off the message before it finished playing."_

"Good old Jervis," she praised, giggling like a madwoman at the fantasy her mind conjured up as the poor crowd of students listened to a very inappropriate voicemail left on an old man's mobile by a mysterious younger woman. Thinking that made her cheeks burn as she recalled how awkward she'd felt after making the recording in front of Harley and the others - most importantly, Jonathan, whose poor ears had heard more than he'd intended. Iris had managed to find Warner's mobile in his suit jacket pocket that night at the club while she performed for him without him noticing anything else, before retreating to the back alley for Jervis to install his latest invention, and then return inside to run into him with the pretense that he'd dropped his phone - which happened to have his own face inside the open-up screen. Good thing he didn't ask how she knew. It was then that he'd told her that their "date" was at seven Friday night, but never the place.

 _"So what are you going to say if he comes by?"_

"I'll act all innocent and say I had no idea that sort of thing would happen," Iris answered sweetly. "He'll believe the words of a woman he's got his predatory eyes on."

Edward snickered. _"Good luck with that."_

"And trust me, Eddie, he _will_ swing by," Iris intoned with a slight menace to her voice, not meant to scare but to humor. "He still has yet to tell me the location of our date."

 _"Be careful with him, Iris,"_ he warned. _"Whatever you do, don't let him get into your pants or try anything Jon and I don't like so we'd want to kill him."_

She sighed in agitation. "Don't get too protective of me. I've made plans to phone Jervis about that. Something like a shocking device that will stun his ass into a coma for a week or however long he can manage."

He roared into laughter before stifling himself. _"Oh, I'm sorry, Iris. That's so hilarious, and more than I would ever go as far to say."_ There was a pause. _"Shit, I have to go back to work, but I'll talk to you soon."_

"You, too," Iris replied, hanging up in time to hear a knock on the door, and Carl's voice calling in for the next patient session. She smiled when Arnold Wesker and his puppet Scarface were brought in.

The day passed by smoothly, but no sign of Dr. Warner just yet, except Iris knew he would come soon. But she got by just like she normally did. However, as she was just leaving through the double glass doors like everyone else would, she accidentally bumped into something - or rather, _someone_ \- and looked up to meet a pair of burning eyes belonging to none other than - "Dr. Warner," she said coolly, forcing a smile to her face.

He didn't smile back. "Do you have any idea what happened to me today?"

She tried to look innocent. "What are you talking about? That message I left you?"

"Exactly. I don't even want to know how this happened, but as soon as it went to my voicemail, it turned on for the entire class to listen to. And Dr. Long, the dean of the school who was dropping by for a visit." His face was beet red. "And he accused me of inappropriate conduct in terms of electronic inboxes in front of a classroom of bright young minds. I tried shutting it off, but I can't even figure out what caused it. And he threatened to file sex offense against me if anything happened again."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," Iris whispered, bringing both hands to her face, keeping up her act. "I had no idea that sort of thing was going to happen. Can you ever forgive me?" She put on her best "trying not to cry" look, hoping it would help.

It worked. Warner's face softened into a forgiving smile. "Of course, my dear. I could never stay mad at a pretty little one like you." Iris mentally cringed, even when he tried to being his hand to place on her shoulder, moving fast to give him the excuse that she was in a hurry. "Now, wait a minute," he called to her. "Where do you think you're going? Didn't you want me to tell you our place for our date Friday?" he asked with a twinkle to the eye.

"Oh, I almost forgot. How foolish of me. Where is it?" Iris answered as she unlocked her car door with her remote.

"The Rose Café," he responded. "I'm sending you something to wear."

Panic erupted in her. If he was sending her something that would show more than she'd wanted, enough to arouse his sick imagination… "I appreciate it, but I'm a grown woman. I can pick out my own clothes."

The look he gave her roared obedience. "I'm afraid once you receive it, you have no choice, Iris DeLaine."

She got into her car fast and started it without hesitation, buckling up as soon as she locked all the doors and windows and back out of the driveway fast while keeping to the limit. Terror all but coursed her veins. She feared that whatever Warner wanted her to wear would result in him making his move on her, like touching her leg from down to up until he got under her skirt. Good thing she called Jervis earlier to let him know of her plans. "Large enough to shove a pack of humpback whales on top of you," she'd said. That sounded funny to her own ears, and it made her feel much better as she drove on home to Jonathan. Ivy and Harley were staying there, too, having taken up Alice and Jervis' old bedroom. She could only hope they didn't do anything to wreck that beautiful aquarium or anything else precious.

Jervis had said that he'd have her new equipment ready by Wednesday evening and that she would not be disappointed. When had he EVER let her down? Already she knew it was going to be great. But for now, all she needed was some time with Jonathan, a refreshing dinner, and a good night's rest.

~o~

Jonathan heard himself hiss as he sat on the foot of Iris' bed as he heard her moan of agony. Not physical pain, but the pain of having to wear what Warner bought her to wear for their date. It was now Wednesday evening, which meant the date night was two nights away. He did not like this one bit, having said that before, and he never got tired of it.

"Oh, God, no way in hell I'm wearing this."

"What does it look like?" Jonathan dared to ask even though he didn't really want to know. There was the sound of clothes tossed around.

"I don't even want to put it into words," came the agitated response. "There are no words for this hideous thing he's forcing me to wear."

All he understood was that Iris would look beautiful in it - in his own eyes - no matter how the dress looked, and besides, he'd planned on tearing that thing right off of her as soon as she returned from dinner with that monster and making love to her in order to make her too tired to go to work the next day. "Would you just come out and let me take a look at you?"

She sighed again, and the Japanese screen to the closet opened, and out stepped Iris. Jonathan felt his breath catch in his throat. She was absolutely _amazing_ , and he'd never seen her in red before; she'd often said that it wasn't her normal color of choice despite how fiery, maddening and passionate it was. The dress had a slit to the left side that ended mid-thigh, an asymmetrical neckline that showed her bared right shoulder and arm, whilst there was a single sleeve covered the left arm. Words did her no justice. He could just imagine her on the final night, but wished it was him who took her to the Rose Café as he'd done before, and in that very dress. Red and rose and a flower like Iris fit perfect in the same sentence.

"You are absolutely beautiful," he breathed. "There are no words for it."

All she gave him was a little shy smile, before she turned and strode back in to change. "Jervis will be here soon with the new weapons," she called over the screen. Jonathan felt disappointment arise with the knowledge that she was changing back into her regular clothes. At least he got to plan ahead of pulling it off of her after that night, he thought with a sly smirk. He'd hate to have to damage that beautiful dress if he were lost in the haze of bloodlust.

Iris had switched into her sheer silk robe - which he glimpsed a little of her breasts and lower center - by the time she slipped out of the dress she called hideous. Perfect timing because the doorbell rang, and they both dashed for the staircase and for the front door to answer. There stood Jervis with a small box and his face pasted with the widest grin ever that Iris returned. "Let's see what you've got."

~o~

Friday night. Six-thirty PM. Oh, how she dreaded it.

Here she stood in front of the tall mirror in her bedroom, looking over her reflection and feeling her stomach quench. This woman was not her at all. The female staring back at her with the same dark-lined Caribbean blue eyes and naturally rosy lips glossed to a shine had her curls barreled with a curling iron and tossed over her bare right shoulder to cover that ear and show the other, which dangled with a chandelier teardrop earring set with rubies that captured a radiant red and featured the tiniest of diamonds. Her dress fell to the floor and formed a puddle around her feet. She'd dabbed herself with the perfume she saved for special occasions, a sassier scent that would cast a black magic spell - namesake of "Black Magic" - and make a man want a woman all the more - fresh Tunisian orange and sensual jasmine - in an exquisite packaging; the bottle was round with a black crystal lid, and was adorned with black lace and an exotic black rose.

"You look wonderful." Jonathan took her in with his eye, praise all but evident in his silvery blue orbs.

"Except I don't feel like it," she confessed, making eye contact with him in the mirror. "I feel like I'm going to start my monthly cycle and bleed to death."

He winced slightly at her bringing up one of the natural elements of her femininity, but a crooked grin took place soon after. "I think you'll be safe. I trust you with every fiber of my being…" He stood from the bed and walked over to her so he could wrap his arms around her. He was wearing a buffalo-check shirt and pajama pants, the combo making him more of the farm boy from Georgia he had been long ago and more handsome than he was. "…and I know you have better instincts than I did, and I know you'll prevent him from touching you. You'll be fine, my love." He pressed a kiss into the bared nape of her neck. The sensations of pleasure shot through Iris like a minor electric current, and she melted into it, growing heated below her stomach, but there was no time for physical contact. She unwillingly broke away.

"Later, I promise," she swore, pressing a finger to his bottom lip. He took the tip of her finger, now painted a bold ruby red, and kissed it tenderly. He watched her leave the room for her car outside to drive to the beautiful Rose Café…where _he_ waited for her.

But first she _had_ to run into a certain blonde clown at the bottom of the stairs in a chemise black with little pink ribbons on the straps and between the bust. "What do you want, Harley? I have to get going."

"Not just yet, Blue. I got something for you to slip into your date's drink so you don't have to worry about spending the whole evening with him." She waved something in her face, something that was a clear bottle of a solution she could only identify as… _eye solution._

"Are you serious?" she asked, flabbergasted. "You want me to slip this into Warner's drink? How the hell am I going to do that when I'm wearing protection and the fact that he wouldn't be able to turn away from me and make it easier?"

Harley rolled her eyes. "Take it from me. Make something up that turns his eyes away from you for a moment, and the sooner his head's turned, zip zap like lightning and dump a large splash. The sooner the better, the sooner he downs down all that glass, he'll be gouging out into the toilet for the next twelve hours," she finished with a wink. Iris rolled her eyes and accepted the bottle, slipping it into her black patent clutch before heading out the door.

The Rose Café was one of the most romantic dining spot with the open-air fashion. The place was rather simple and minimalist with the black and white settings and beautiful chandeliers lighting up the room. Serving one of the best _foie gras_ in the city, the French cuisine there was wonderful without a doubt.

And there sat the man she loathed seeing. He was in a black suit and a dark navy tie over a white shirt that clearly showed how morbid he was in both appearance and in nature. The sooner he spotted her, he gave her a sick grin and motioned her over with a beckon of his finger. Sitting beside him was a clear bottle of wine she recognized as Pinot Grigio, along with a couple of beautiful tall-stemmed, mouth-blown flutes with stylish gold spirals. She mentally sneered at the luxury she'd have to spend with this man who violated her Jonathan and damaged both his mind and his pride. "I see that dress complements you rather well…just as I imagined it." Iris flinched at the way he said that. "Would the lovely lady care for some champagne before we order?" Oh, now he was making fruitless attempts to be the gentleman at dinner. How predictable. But she decided to play along.

"Very much," she answered with a voice like liquid silk - as smooth as the pale golden fluid that now filled the flute before her.

Warner was eyeing her curiously even though he was still smiling. "You know, I'll be honest, I was taken by surprise at your sudden sweetness to me, and that message," he added with a nervous chuckle. "Because if I recall correctly, you were very hostile towards me in the start. Why the sudden change?"

Iris gave him a false sweet face. "I figured you can't stay angry at one person forever. Besides, I find myself wanting to know more about you. Such as, how long have you been teaching in college for?"

He chuckled as he picked up his menu. "You continue to surprise me. Well, I went to Russia to study for my PhD, and that's where I graduated. Over four decades ago. That's where I met your grandmother, and she was so beautiful I couldn't stay away from her. In fact, you remind me so much of her. That same fiery personality, that ethereal beauty…but then she left me for your grandfather." Iris tried her best to hide her disgusted face behind her menu. "After that, I relocated to New Jersey, where I taught at Gotham University up until an unfortunate incident that made me lose my job. I was in the hospital for some years before I was released, and Gotham University accepted me to return."

"I was a student there," Iris said, though she didn't want to tell him anything of herself. "Professor Crane was my teacher there for three years until he was wrongfully dismissed for no proof of 'unorthodox methods'."

Warner nodded. "Ah, yes, Jonathan Crane. My student at the same university for all five years, indeed. You know, he was the youngest doctor ever to get a degree in psychopharmacology. Too bad he threw it all away for the life of a criminal, from what I read." Her temper threatened to burn her blood to lava bursting through her flesh at the way he spoke of her Jonathan like that. He lowered his menu and winked at her. "You remind me so much of him, as well. Accomplishing everything at such a young and exceptional age."

"Except I never achieved it in a way you may be thinking," Iris replied coolly. He raised an eyebrow.

"Just what exactly would I be thinking?"

Iris shrugged, still pretending to look innocent. "Oh, maybe that I gave head to get my degree. Which I didn't. I'm not the type of person for that. I am just great at what I do. Life taught me so much that I went through school so fast. So…" She twitched an eyebrow at him. "…are we ready to order or what, Professor?"

Warner cleared his throat and nodded, lowering his menu down. "Of course." He looked up to the waiter who had just approached. "I would like the _Coquille St. Jacques_ if you please." That was a dish of baked scallops with white sauce served on an actual seashell plate. The waiter nodded as he wrote down the order, and then turned to her, the young lady of the evening.

"Grilled lobster with drawn butter, please," she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him, making him blush and nod with the words of "Excellent choices" and walked away. It was then that her luck happened.

Warner had given the waiter a warning look at "checking out" his date and had turned around to follow where the young man was heading into the kitchens, and this was when Iris saw her opportunity. Seeing as no one else looked twice at them, she had her clutch unzipped the whole time, and it made it easy for her to draw out the unscrewed eye solution and quickly make a big spray into Warner's wine glass, hiding it once more just as he was turning around to look back at her.

"Someone ever looks at you the wrong way, I'm going to get my hands on them," he growled, and she shivered. She could only imagine what he'd do to Jonathan if he ever found him…

"Well, to take your mind of that for a while…" Iris began, picking up her flute and raising it. "…why don't we drink a toast for tonight?" she finished.

"To what, if I may?" he asked, raising his.

"To…" Iris struggled for words. "…success." That was all it took, and after their glasses clinked, she sipped her slowly and watched as he downed down his nearly to the point of finishing it all off before the food arrived. She thought what a pig he was. Her stomach clenched. But then again, his would begin to, as well.

"Well, that was some toast," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Indeed," Iris agreed, setting her glass down, her mouth still tasting the flavor of green apples with a white peach undertone, flowers and citrus. She had never felt so refreshed in all her life. Perhaps it was because of the way she saw Warner begin to look as if he was getting sick, and she could have sworn she _heard_ his stomach growling. She giggled at both that and his face flushing.

"My apologies, Dr. DeLaine. Just hungered more than I was before." She almost snickered at how she had him for a fool at the moment. This increased as soon as the food arrived, and Warner jumped from his chair. Iris pretended to look concerned.

"Are you okay?"

He gave her a weak smile. "Oh, I'm fine. Just suddenly have a…" He trailed off as he slapped a hand over his mouth and hurried away from the table for the men's room somewhere in the direction where the kitchens were. The waiter looked after him with a raised eyebrow.

"I guess he must have lost his appetite," he joked, making Iris laugh. "Here's your grilled lobster, _mademoiselle_." Iris' stomach gurgled at the sight of the lobster tail drawn over in butter and sided with whipped garlic mashed potatoes. The sight of the scallops on the seashell made her decide that poor old Warner - she giggled at the sarcasm in there - wouldn't mind if she swiped his food and took off after paying for it herself.

"How did it go, Blue?" Harley called excitedly from the kitchen as Iris entered through the front door. She and Pamela were sitting at the island, still in the same chemise from earlier while the redhead wearing a sheer lime green one with nude underparts, both sipping one of the rich red wines Iris owned. She was too distracted to care, but she was in a good mood because everything went according to plan. Warner didn't so much as try to make a move on her or touch her, and would spend the next twelve hours or so bursting his stomach to small pieces into the toilet. It was nearing eight o'clock when she returned home, and previously she'd left a text message on the new phone she'd bought Jonathan telling her she was on her way home.

"Perfect," she answered simply as she walked for the elevator and pressed the button for the second level. "Just absolutely perfect now that I am on a full stomach after a sumptuous alone meal while he spent the whole time in the men's room, and I brought his food with me for Jonathan and myself while he never knew I left."

Pamela's laugh was high and hearty. "Ah, that was genius! I knew you would make him look like the dummy he is. And you better get a good night's rest and have some sweet dreams then!" she yelled as soon as she heard the _ding_ of the elevator.

Iris laughed as she walked in and pressed the button. "Sure I will." She looked down at the food she'd decided to save for Jonathan and herself. "But first thing's first." The idea had come to her just now: Jonathan had said earlier that he'd tear her dress off as soon as she returned, so perhaps she could entice him with Warner's dinner she'd brought home - the seashell plate and all - perhaps she could get him to say, "I'm hungry, but not for food," and make him go for her just like that. She headed to Jonathan's room first, but he wasn't there, and she began to feel panic seep into her even when she discovered he wasn't in his bathroom either. That left one other place she knew. She headed to her room across the hallway only to find that the bathroom light was on, but the door was slightly ajar. She smirked as she set down the package of food on the bed and proceeded to slip off her dress, shoulders down, so it was in a sparkling red pool that she kicked off. Her black heeled sandals she saved for special occasions followed, but she was left in her strapless red lace bra and bikini. They were lined underneath like the electric fences you found around military bases or prisons, and right now they were automatically off, so no harm would be done to Jonathan…except it would be s _he_ to remove them in front of his eyes. They had a button console sized in the back to fit with the hook to her bra, and upon removing that first, the wires would turn off altogether - and on when she put the garments on. After discarding her jewelry, she picked up the seashell with the still-hot food and walked into the bathroom…where she got a surprise.

Jonathan was sitting in the bathtub, smirking and facing her, back against the rim, arms out on either side of him, but the water was clear as crystal so that she could see his spread limbs and knees poking through the water surface so that she could see the shaded area between his legs. Also, sitting on the marble rim of the tub was a small jar filled with glittering blue crystals, a product of the Kama Sutra line she recognized as Treasures of the Sea - complete with a real seashell scoop, they were nature's most precious filled with minerals from the sea, to create a silky, soul-awakening romantic bath for two. Well, if they were going to have a shared bath this way, it was a good thing she'd brought seafood for a bath for two. She walked over and set the dish down beside him. His eyes followed that, and then back up to her as she began to discard her undergarments, leaving herself naked to him and him only, one hand on her hip. This time her legs and crotch area had been shaved tonight and smelling delicately of the floral essence of honeysuckle, and a smaller triangle shape at the fork of her thighs where fluid heat was beginning to form like the boiling depths of the sea. Jonathan was looking her over like Poseidon would look a sea nymph. She climbed in then, sitting herself on top of him so that he couldn't see her face and her his. The fact that they wouldn't be able to see each other made it easier.

Resting against him in water warm enough to almost sear the first layer of skin off was an arousal all on its own. He leaned in to nestle his face into the spot between her neck and shoulder, teeth gently biting the sensitive spot. Iris closed her eyes and lifted a hand to bring him down further, fingers sliding through his silken hair. The feel of his wet pubes turned up the heat; she also felt that he'd shaved off some of the hair down there, too, just for her. There was something else she wanted to feel from him; first she reached over to grab a scallop and bring it to his nose so that he got the idea of what she was trying to do. He lifted his face from her neck and looked at the food with hungry eyes. She brought it to her left breast that was facing him, placing it to the nipple there so it hardened, butter dripping onto it - and a little into the water - and trailing up her breast and to her mouth, popping it in so she could savor the buttery, salty taste. His baby blues darkened with lust and hunger at the sight, so he took this as a sign to pay attention to her breasts, leaning forward and taking in the buttered nipple into his mouth and sucking the pebbled bud, the electrical sensations shooting throughout her breast to her entire chest, before he removed it to work his warm, moist tongue up the trail left by the scallop and to her mouth, savoring the butter flavor of her lips left by the sea meat. His other hand had come up behind her, fingers ghosting her sides under the water and rising out to grope her other breast, then leaned over, shoulder bumping against the breast he'd played with his mouth, and took another scallop for himself to do the similar thing and pop into his mouth, then let her work her way from his nipple to his lips, taking turns in this little game of seduction in the Greek-themed bath until they finished off the seashell dish.

 **The Rose Café was a real restaurant in "Pretty Poison", Poison Ivy's debut episode in the animated series. She dated Harvey Dent before she poisoned him with her kiss - this was before he became Two-Face. The interior and exterior detail was based off of yet enother restaurant, the name I can't remember as it has been awhile.**

 **Iris' "protective undergarments" were based off of "shock panties" that the main heroine in "Mommy Fiercest" by Cells-girl wore for protection against Lyle Bolton as she worked to save her men - Joker, Scarecrow, and Riddler - from Arkham and him. I tried to contact Cells-girl to tell her she inspired me and that it made me laugh so much I could not resist the idea, but no response. Last I heard she might be leaving the fandom, but I hope to God I am wrong because her stories are so damned funny. I'm not the only one who thinks so.**

 **The use of eye solution to make Victor Warner sick and save Iris' skin also came from the movie "Wedding Crashers", so Owen Wilson's character could have Rachel McAdams' while her boyfriend (Bradley Cooper) puked his innards out the rest of the night. XD**


	24. Treading Deep Water

**The title of this newest chapter is symbolic of what will transpire next, used before but appropriate.**

Chapter Twenty-Three

Treading Deep Water

When Jonathan opened his eyes to the song playing, he smiled and stretched his bones under the black-and-teal silk covers, then reaching up to rub the sleep out of his eyes. God, he couldn't think straight after last night's events. Making Iris feel better was one of his top priorities as her partner and "soulmate", as Sylvia used to call them. He looked over to his side to see Iris turn off her mobile and was about to rise out of the bed when he sat up and pulled her towards him. She moaned against his chest.

"Jonathan, I have to get ready for work -"

"You won't get into trouble for it." He silenced her with his mouth on hers in seconds. "You're the boss woman. You can strut about whenever you want, my dear. Right now I need you before I go about another long day until you return home." He climbed on top of her and grinded his eager erection - which was commonly known as the "early morning hard-on" - against her to let her know, and began to feel the heat between her legs form in a matter of moments.

"Ahhh…" She followed his lead in lying on her side and facing him, leaning in closer to him and scissoring her leg through his so that they were super close, and so that he was deep inside her after entering her fast and slick. "Oh, Jonathan…this is some way to wake up…" she moaned, chuckling deep in her throat as he began to thrust, doing the traditional in-out routine.

"Mm-hmm," he agreed, burying his face into her neck and hair, holding onto her waist and hooking his leg between hers, her arm looping through the space between his arm and side to grasp his hip for leverage. Their thrusting movements in this spider web-like position created the ultimate friction and stimulated the spot he hit repeatedly and drew a higher cry from her lips each time. Unfortunately this mind-blowing moment couldn't last long, so when they finally found release, Iris unwillingly gathered her strength to give him a quick kiss and leave the bed and Jonathan lying amid the black silk sheets in a post-coital daze. Tomorrow was his day off, but today he didn't have to go into the library as early as he would. He watched as his lover disappeared into the bathroom without her robe, longing to join her but knew he wouldn't be able to stop touching her and make her late for work. He heard the water run, then waited for thirty minutes before she exited with her hair damp but mostly dried, waltzed to the closet and vanished behind the Japanese screen door to dress.

Iris came out only a couple minutes later and he lifted an amused eyebrow. She repeated the same walk as she did before, this time in her favorite black pumps, now in a light, springy blue dress that reached her elbows, stopped mid-calf, wrapped around the waist, and showed some chest. Her hair was let loose freely in shining waves, the faint smell of Morocco flying to his nostrils from afar. Watching her perform her morning routine turned him on as much as seeing her beautiful bare body did. He watched as she plopped down onto her stool before her dresser, smirking at him in the mirror as she stuck in what looked like heart-shaped Titanic studs in her ears, then the pendant he bought her ages ago, her black diamond ring from her grandmother as a teen, glossed her lips, and finally doused herself with her favorite perfume from a black crystal fan-shaped bottle. Then she stood and walked over to him, capturing his lips with hers for a quick kiss. He smelled her perfume in the endearing moment, calla lilies, irises, musk and roses - all a perfect combo for her. "I'll see you later, handsome," she purred against his lips.

~o~

 _"So you haven't seen him since Friday night?"_ Alice was laughing it off on the computer screen camcorder from her office. It had been over a week since she last saw the bastard and left him to burst his belly. _"You just left him in the restaurant emptying out his abnormally large tummy while you went about the evening like a normal person and then stole away his uneaten dinner after he never showed up after that? Just like that?"_

"Just like that," Iris answered with a grin on her face as she reached over to the beeping phone and pressed a button, getting the message that she was receiving a visitor. "You know I did thank Jervis for his genius devices, but…okay, I never thought I'd say this, but I thank Harley for her idea, too. And for that extra idea of sneaking into his home just a few nights after to plant that little germ into his dinner so he was out sick for the last five days. And no classes for him." She howled with laughter as she remembered the footage Eddie had installed then for her to take a look at Warner constantly running out of bed and to the toilet every twenty minutes. Who knew, he could have ended up going to the hospital if his "poor stomach" was that bad since Friday night eight nights back. If he even had the insurance money for coverage…

 _"So I suppose I should leave you to your visitor then?"_ Alice asked with a little smile. _"I got a board meeting in ten minutes myself."_

"Good luck with that." Business never really interested Iris all that much, unless it had to do with charity. "Meanwhile I need to find out who my visitor is. And I know now that it's _him_." The fire in her veins returned as she was positive it was Dr. Warner; she still refused to call him by his first name. People like him she refused to be on a first-name basis.

Alice groaned heavily, giving the camera a look that said all the basic emotions for now. _"Good luck with that, sister. Talk to you later."_ With that, she cut off the signal, and the camera went black. Perfect timing, too, because there was a knock on her door.

"Door's open," she called.

In walked just the man she detested the most. She almost smirked when she noted how pale and stretched the skin across his face was from sickness and stomach flus yet he managed to give a weak smile. "My apologies for not being able to see your face for over a week," he apologized, sitting in the blue chair. "And for leaving you alone in the café that night alone. I honestly have no idea what caused the dreadful stomach pains I've endured."

"No apology needed," she replied smoothly leaning back into her chair smoothly. "So, how have you been?"

"I've been better…right up until now," he answered. "In fact, I've been waiting for the last eight days to ask you this. I know we've only been on one date - which I regret not being there most of the whole time for reasons - but I feel like I've known you longer than that. So, what I'm trying to ask you is this…"

Iris stiffened suddenly in her chair, a cold feeling washing over her heart, for she _knew_ what he was going to ask, but couldn't find it in her to admit it to herself. Her mind was racing with the thoughts of it, and how could she ever protect Jonathan once that was carried out?

"Iris DeLaine, I wish for you to marry me."

That was all it took before she felt herself grow faint - the world darkening around her faster than night falling - and collapse in her chair.

~o~

Edward loved his job at Drew's family's company. Just as Jon was enjoying his as the head librarian at the Gotham Memorial. To think that previously he thought they'd never adjust back into society - he'd been proven wrong once he began his job in the technology department, on just about anything in that department due to his amount of genius. Drew had always been the one to admire him for that, besides Joan, of course. He'd been working here for three months, and he'd made good money so far, taking care of himself and his girlfriend and the mother of his child. On top of that, he'd written and published a book of riddles for teens just as Iris had suggested, and it was selling rather well, currently ranked number two in the box office.

Speaking of Joan, she was nearing the fourth month and was beginning to show. She still continued her job at Arkham, yet he always worried if one of the more violent inmates would end up harming their child if she wasn't too careful. He loved her too much to lose her now. And the main reason was that she would be the mother of his child. Which was why he'd gone a few months before and bought the dainty little trinket he now held in his palm as he sat in his office; the walls were painted a dark shade of lime green that would appear a little tacky to other business firms in general, but it suited him, and the shelves were fixed into a modern open-box fashion, painted white like his desk was, the carpet gray as the view of the world, as Iris would call it.

The ring in his palm was customized, made by his own hand, the band wired and gold, set with one purple amethyst and a green one which was rarer than the former - resembling like they were ice carved at the hands of Chione, the Greek goddess of snow and ice. He'd known Joan since they were teenagers and yet he was tired of continuing as they were now, having a baby and yet unmarried…

His phone rang. Edward sighed at having his thoughts on how to ask Joan that very important question interrupted, but pressed the button and brought the phone to his ear. "Competitron, this is Edward."

 _"Honey?"_

The sound of his girlfriend's little anxious voice - whether it was due to pregnancy hormones or something else, he didn't know - got him worked up. "What's the matter, my little riddle queen? Are you having a -?"

 _"Oh, no,"_ she interrupted calmly, _"I'm fine. It's Iris."_

"Iris?" Edward bolted up at the mention of his best friend's lover. "What happened?"

Joan spilled it all out in one breath. _"Well, that Dr. Warner asshole came by, and I was listening in on them from the outside of her office. He, like…popped the question, and she fainted in shock."_

He tightened his hand on the device, body shaking with rage and shock. Warner, he - he asked Iris to _marry him_! This was beyond what either of them in the group had expected, and he did not blame Iris for reacting the way she did. "My God, he -" He couldn't form a proper question or sentence due to what he was feeling now. "Where are they now?"

 _"Well, after she collapsed, he burst out of the office and called for me and the other nurses. She's in the treatment ward resting, but he's not in the room with her right now. He's in the waiting room."_

Great, Iris was passed out from shock at the unexpected question - never in Edward's life did he ever think that his hated psych professor would resort to anything like this - and now she was lying in her own asylum's medical ward until she aroused awake, with the man they were working so hard to get rid of once and for all waiting for her to do so. What the hell were they going to do now? "Keep an eye on them for now, baby," he said instead. "If she ever awakes, don't tell her to call me. I know she will on her own, and then we'll think of how to proceed."

~o~

She was lying on her back, on cushioned leather, covered by a soft blanket, but nothing erased the uncomfortable ease in her body. Opening her eyes, everything swam into clear focus and she saw that she lay on a leather examination bed. She couldn't have been in Gotham General; the policy was not to transport a staff member or patient to the hospital unless it was a severe emergency, so she had to still be in Arkham. Sitting up, she groaned as she stretched so her bones popped back into function.

"Dr. DeLaine! You're awake."

She looked up and saw Joan hurrying her way with Carle behind her. Both bore expressions of relief and no trace of worry on their faces. "Doc, take it easy," Carl said, helping her sit up. "You still seem dazed."

"I feel like it, yes." Iris leaned into him for support, unashamed because it was him, her favorite orderly, in the room, as well as a pregnant colleague. But the ache in her heart and stomach was still there. Warner - that sick son of a bitch who raped her Jonathan years before college graduation, been his psych professor and violated not only his trust but also his mind and body - had asked her to marry him…had picked today in her own office of all places and all times to do so…she had fainted and was now in the treatment ward because of it - she needed some Aspirin now and fast. She needed to tell everyone in the group about this, speak with Harley and Red on what else to do now.

"Ah, she's awake, I see. After being in that dreadful waiting room for a long, boring hour indeed." She bolted up in horror at the voice she did not want to hear now or anytime soon. But here he was. She clung onto Carl for protection while he stood on her like a bodyguard, and Joan frowned at him in disapproval.

"Dr. Warner, this is not a good time. Dr. DeLaine is still not in good shape -" she tried to say, but he interrupted her with a brusque laugh that earned a scowl from all three of her staff members.

"Nonsense. I'm a doctor myself, and I know she'll feel better soon. She's just in shock from my pop of the question. Something that differs from the news I burst out to everyone in the waiting room, which I'm sure is bound to get out soon," he finished with a wink. Joan sucked in a sharp breath and clutched her belly as if to shield her baby from the sickening news. Carl looked him on with the same mortified expression…but Iris felt even worse than she was.

"You _told everyone I was going to marry you?!_ " she all but screamed and choked out, slipping out of Carl's grasp and nearly falling onto the floor, but before her limbs touched the hard matter, Joan lurched forward to help her onto her feet. She stayed that way, looking down at the floor, trying to comprehend the horrific situation for what felt like an eternity, but it could only have been one minute before Warner was speaking again.

"I think it's best if we left her alone to recover from this news," he suggested with brazen disregard to her trance. Joan looked at her with a questionable look, but Iris nodded - she really wanted to be alone, but feared _he_ would stay behind - and then looked to Carl and then the door, motioning him to wait outside and listen for anything funny. He got the gesture and gave a short nod. Warner noticed none of this as he was speaking to Joan.

"I doubt you'll be the one to leave the room, Professor," Joan said curtly, folding her arms across her chest as she glared at the older man. "For all I know, you could very well try something funny on this poor girl who runs us all."

He returned the same expression. "I would take care to watch the way you speak to me, Doctor," he returned. "Wouldn't want anything…unfortunate," he drawled suggestively as he looked her over, the sign making Iris shiver at the thought of what he could do to poor Joan and her baby, "to happen to you, now would we?"

"Leave us, Joan," Iris ordered softly. "I'll take care of myself, thank you."

Joan gave her a short look and simply turned away, after scowling at Warner one last time, and followed Carl out of the room, the door ajar and good enough for her to secretly listen in on them. Warner turned back to Iris with his hands behind his back, a sickening smile on his face. "So, where were we…?"

"I don't think I should answer that, thank you very much," Iris said sharply, folding her arms across her chest. "But I would love to point out that times have changed in terms of a young woman being the bride of a man old enough to be her grandfather. Especially when he was once engaged to her own grandmother."

A frown formed on his slightly lined face. Had the circumstances been different for them and for him back then, she would have said he was decently attractive despite his age. "I would beg to differ, _Miss_ DeLaine." He drawled the insult on her title. "You're an excellent choice for me to finally settle down before my time is up. I lost my one chance with your grandmother, but you are my last hope and the last of the DeLaine women."

Did he HONESTLY think she would be worn down by his futile charm after what he did to _Jonathan?_

"You're wasting your time if you think I'll say yes for the sake of being related to your former betrothed, none other than my grandmother. I'm not the helpless little girl you think I am, who fantasizes being swept off her feet like in a fairytale. And above all, I am _not_ interested in contracting the remainder of my life to a large, sweaty old man who eyeballs young women and fuels his desires and uses their dreams of success - as well as their achieved success - to his advantage."

He was in front of her in a flash, that large body intimidating her…but she was not afraid. However, he grasped both her forearms in his hands, the brutality making her almost cry out, but all that came out was a little grunt of a shadow of one. "You listen to me, little girl," he growled viciously in her face. "You have no idea that Sylvia was my life before she left me for someone else. You don't know anything about me. I don't know what your precious doctor told you about me, but he's damn well a fool who sold himself off like a man giving himself to the Devil. So hear me out just this once, and I won't say it again: You are going to be my wife, and that is the way it was written before you were even pubescent. With that being said…" He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box of black velvet - a ring box, to her horror - and opened it to reveal its contents.

To any other bride-to-be, this ring would have been fun and fabulous, with its thick starburst border set with round diamonds, surrounding a single large brilliant cut as though it were a planet. But to her, it was a terrible reminder - and realization - of a past she'd managed to overcome with years of studying and helping people with her experiences. "That's my _mother's_ ring," she gasped.

"I first met Maria years ago, not long before your father died, when she came for a photoshoot for the _Allure_ magazine, and then arrived at Gotham State to promote and teach a modeling class for a week, and that was when I stumbled across her. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen even if she was already married…to Marcus DeLaine, your father, and my Sylvia's boy - which made it even better that she was connected to Sylvia in a way. But she intrigued me altogether…and coaxed me back to her motel room later that very day."

Iris felt the bile rise in her stomach. "You…s _lept_ with my mother?"

"A very beautiful woman with a very beautiful body, indeed. She confessed of her husband's infidelities, which was no surprise to me given her fascinating history. I'll be honest that it drew me to her that we spent a few more nights after that, together, and it was then on the final night that she spoke of you."

"What of me?"

"Maria spilled the beans of her disinterest with you, that you were nothing more to her than an accessory to her, and I quote, 'Overwhelming fame.' So we hatched an agreement with Farnsworth, your family's lawyer, that one day I would be rewarded with a gift. Said it was her turn to bear it to me, not biologically, though."

"She intended ME, her own daughter, as that gift," Iris said furiously, wanting so much to step back, but her legs did not have their strength.

Warner nodded. "She wished you to have you off to me so that you weren't a spoil in her life any more than you already were. Since her death, I decided to wait until you were of a more…legal age than you were at the time. All I had to do was wait until Sylvia was out of the picture, so that she wouldn't be an obstacle anymore. Now that that is done, the time has come."

Iris barely felt the slip of the ring on the third finger of her left hand. It was a surprise that the ring itself would not be a size larger than her own finger. "Not too late to begin the wedding plans, either, my dear. We shall be married in two weeks' time, no questions asked."

~o~

Jonathan swam nude as the day he was born in the pool of the Sunken Garden section of the manor's massive gardens. Iris would be home soon, and once she reached his room, she'd find his discarded clothes on the floor and no sign of him - the thought alone making him smirk - and a note he'd written and left on his bed, simply reading, _You'll find me in the sea realm of Poseidon, little sea nymph_. The clue itself would be enough to make her hunt him through the expanse of the landscape until she found herself at the balustrade overlooking where he was now.

There was the sound of rustling overhead, and he looked up to see a flowing light blue figure with a long mane of ebony hair rippling in the soft wind of the summer evening. Iris bore her eyes with his as she descended the stairs until she was at the bottom of the sanded steps. She stood there for the moment, keeping eye contact with him. He felt the little coy smile on his face slowly fade as he noticed the troubled look in her eyes, even noticed the hesitation in her body language as she reached to undo the sash around her waist that held her dress together…and then opened it to reveal absolutely nothing on her beautiful body. His arousal flared like an undersea volcano beneath the water as he imagined her walking about the day with nothing under her dress just for him…but then he noticed something glittering on her left hand, no need to pinpoint what finger it was.

 _Iris was wearing an engagement ring_.

Rage flared up in him as realization dawned on him as to who the proposer had been. He waited where he was, watching as the beautiful nymph before him descended into the pool out in open air and swiftly flowed in his direction. The temperature of the water brought out the sight of her hardening nipples, making him temporarily forget his anger - knowing that this wasn't Iris' fault that she ended up in this situation, and there would be more planning to come with Harley after today - and instead focus on her. She was before him within seconds, pressing herself up against his chest so that her rough buds were on the verge of penetrating his chest flesh. He groaned at the feeling, pulling her closer so he could enjoy the warmth of her body amid the cool waters around them and smell the scent of her hair. This was what he needed and not whatever troubles were now ahead of them.

But then she said it.

"You saw it, I know it," she murmured against his shoulder. "He came to visit me at work and he…" She trailed off, fingers curling against his chest, to which he had a better look at the ring, and its brilliant starburst was all too familiar to him. "He asked me to…"

"No need to say it," Jonathan said darkly, holding her tighter.

She lifted her head up to look him square in the eyes. "I never expected anything like this to happen, I swear. Before my father died, my mother traveled to GSU to do some modeling for a class there, and she met Warner there. They…" She swallowed thickly. "…had an affair."

That revelation made Jonathan sick to his stomach. He'd always suspected that Maria DeLaine had the charm to lure other men who weren't her husband into her arms, but Dr. Warner… He looked down at his poor girl's face. "So what happened there?"

"She convinced him to have me married off to him so that she wouldn't have to deal with me. But because I was only seventeen at the time of her death, he decided to wait until I was old enough, and once Grandma Sylvia was out of the picture. Well, she's dead, and now's his chance, so that's why he popped up at her funeral." Iris finished with a dull monotone that got to him at once. "He gave me Mother's ring," she said, gesturing to her hand with her head.

"Well, he won't have you. Not if I have anything to say about it." His brain flashed with unwanted images of Iris free to wander about but still playing housewife to that beast and meeting his every needs…he shoved it all down as he caught her ever-tempting lips in a kiss. She was in need…in need of his rescue from that monster even if she was far from helpless, as she had always been. She was silently urging him to unleash that beautiful beast within him - to allow the beast in his body to be released from its cage and unleash his insatiable appetite upon her. He wanted her; she was all his, and that bastard did not deserve to rip them apart, wrench her from his arms, force them apart before he had the opportunity to spend the rest of his life with her.

"Iris…" he growled her name as he grinded himself against her under the water, taking her with him to the side of the pool, facing the stairless side that was all a view of forestry and privacy. He perched himself up on the side, facing her and looking over her magnificent body with his hungry eyes. "Come here, child…" he coaxed, using the pet name he hadn't used on her since she was his student.

She followed him, slipping out of the pool on all fours and crawling his way and gently pushing him down onto his back. He was more than happy to comply, letting her straddle him - he was ready for her as she was for him, as his excited member discovered to his delight. He wasted no time in allowing the circle of her legs to trap him on the sanded concrete, hips moving forward as she leaned down to kiss him, hand grasping his shoulders for support, and drawing him inside her.

"He - he told everyone in the waiting room at the asylum that I agreed," Iris gasped, but he would hear none of that.

"No, none of that," he managed, lifting a hand to silence her with his finger. "None of him for now…just us out here, savoring each other's flesh and pouring out our love to the air. I never want him to take you away from me. You belong to me and no other man…" He let that hand trail down and rest on her breast. "…and I'll go all night working it from your subconscious if I have to. I won't let you go to him, Iris."

 **I had it planned from the beginning to have Iris be a classic unwilling bride yet stronger than that. Her mother's blinged out engagement ring as well as the story behind planning this with Victor Warner, knowing his history with Sylvia, was perfect. And as for Joan's which Eddie makes himself, was inspired by a real ring known as the Chione Amethyst Ring.**

 **Also, in "Descent", after Iris graduated, at the party following the speech she never wanted to go to, her father Marcus had a planned engagement to Christopher Fairfax, the teenage and spoiled son of a colleague of his, which Iris rebuffed to no differently than she did to Victor Warner.**


	25. Of Shotguns and Predators

**I was really laughing my ass off when I became inspired by two of my favorite movies for this chapter, "American Pie" and "Men at Work". Anyone familiar with the movies should see the connections and the lovable dialogue and content.**

 **A certain "shotgun to the ass" scene will take place from "Men at Work" as well as a speech similar to the vow of celibacy the four friends in "American Pie" took that is vital to the movie's main plot, but I won't spoil any further. ;D**

Chapter Twenty-Four

Of Shotguns and Predators

"Two weeks?!" Harley shrieked as she and the group - herself, Iris, Eddie, Pamela and Jon - all hid in the bushes outside Dr. Warner's house. Edward didn't like being here, but the harlequin insisted on being here because she "suggested" a "brief look-in on the good professor's nightly activities". Harley couldn't even contain herself like he couldn't, either, at the news of when and where the wedding would take place. "Two weeks, and you are r _eally_ gonna marry that disgusting old man, Blue?!" She reached up and ruffled the neckline of her buttoned up bright ruby cardigan over her yellow top of springtime flowers as though it was getting hot at hearing the news.

Edward looked beside him just as Iris scoffed and shook her head. "Of course not. You all know I'm not going to…as long as I have you guys," she said with a grateful smile.

"You all know that she has no choice but to proceed with the plans," Jon said, leaning against the white van that Ivy had stolen for them, where she and Harley volunteered to keep watch on Warner and decide on the next move before the "big day". The situation may have changed, but the game was still the same. "You realize this, right? Farnsworth had been made by Maria DeLaine a long time ago to draw up her final will for this and keep it sealed away until the 'time was right'," he finished with a near-perfect imitation of the lawyer's resigned voice.

Edward took this in with very little time to waste. Okay, he admitted it; getting married in two weeks was an absolute rush, but at least Joker always found a way to make things more "interesting" - if he were here, but now Harley would do his jobs. He looked down at Iris' left hand, perched on her knee, where the diamond ring of her late model mother glittered despite the darkness of the early night. Earlier she'd mentioned that the plan was to have the wedding at her home - her own home of all places - and reliving an Egyptian themed ceremony and reception in the ballroom just like her parents' had been. Knowing her and Jon too well, her having this big wedding was her mother's dream come true and not hers. Not to mention, her choice of groom. He wanted to vomit at the image of her standing before the old man, and him looking at her the wrong way. Well, he was going to make him regret that, and for doing what he tried to protect Jon from. As the old saying went, "You can't change the past, but you can always change the future."

"Well, if I may," he said, getting everyone's attention - all but Pamela's, who was just deep in the bushes across the street from the suburban two-story brick house that was Warner's residence, and zooming in on any activity in the currently lit house with a telescope - as they stood a short distance behind the spying clown. "This is really simple, and it came to my mind just now, but maybe it's not as simple as Joker used to put it. I mean, what if we crashed the wedding with concrete evidence against him?"

He had no idea why he didn't think of this before. He had never got the chance to finish his search of the house before he was found and blackmailed regarding his father, but for some reason, he'd always suspected Warner was a suspected sex offender long before he went onto Jon, but there had been no proof. Sometimes the true facts and evidence were hidden deep within the offender's home - "safely" from the public eye. He was sure there was something there that would have his ass thrown in behind bars once and for all.

Jon looked down at him, appalled. "Eddie, there's no proof of any kind that he's a sexual predator. None in my case and none before then, you know that."

He'd had enough and stood up from sitting on the ground. "Guys, this situation has become more complicated than any other we've been in. Here's the deal: we proceed the way we're doing right now, and Iris continues to keep him after her as long as he doesn't put his hands on her, and after buying time with investigation and not involving the police since we all know there are still some of those corrupt bastards around, we show up and present the facts, and if things go well, we got him out of our lives for good."

"But we all know he'll be let off the hook because he's tenured," Jon insisted.

"But not if we have the queen herself," Edward pointed out, nodding to Iris, who beamed coyly. "She's our rock, would do anything to protect those she cares about…even homicide," he finished with a wink, having witnessed a couple shows of her dirty little work as the Empress. "So if they let him go, she'll off him off, won't you, Iris?"

"That's right. You know I never use my trusty scythe unless it's special occasions."

"That's what I'm talking about!" Edward loved how this was going. "Separate, we are flawed and vulnerable…but _together_ we are the masters of justice."

Jon's eyes grew the size of saucers. "Oh, now you're talking justice? Just think that three of us are into the seemingly non-existing justice while the other two are the very opposite." He motioned with his head to where Harley was perched beside her redhead vixen, crouched and facing them.

"Hey! Red and I are now doing everything we can to help you guys."

"Guys!" Edward held up both hands to silence everyone. "This is literally serious here. I mean, two of our very members and cherished friends' lives are at stake here. We must fight and fight our best if we are to get Warner out once and for all. We will make sure he faces our justice for the crimes he got away with, for tearing apart the lives and innocence of every poor soul out there, and no one will stop us. _This_ is a battle that we will - and _shall_ \- win. By God we will not stand by and let him condemn another bright young spirit to his sick and twisted desire. We will make a stand and stand together in this far-from-over war…and we _will_ succeed."

He received a trio appraise of "We _will_ kill Warner!" before Pamela interrupted the moment.

"If you all are done there, you got take a look at this." Everyone crowded around him, but she handed Edward the end of the telescope borrowed from his and Joan's place so he could take his look first. His stomach dropped.

There was the old man himself, walking into the scene of his living area, but he was not alone. Behind him walked in a young woman of about twenty years old, her soft auburn hair in a high ponytail and wearing a light khaki floral print top and matching pants, carrying an armful of books, her face bright and innocent and eager for help on her career of choice…but the look on the teacher's face was clearly more than that, just as Edward remembered. "What the hell?" he choked, drawing back as though feeling like he was electrocuted.

"What is it?" Jon took his place and placed his eye before the telescope. His jaw dropped. "Oh, hell no. I don't like where this is going."

Iris did not need to peek through to know, as she could tell from afar what was happening. She walked away from them and for the van, where the double rear doors were opened, and came back less than a minute later with - "What are you going to do with that?" Edward asked, hearing the _click_ from the shotgun that she kept on the mantle of her living room. Pair that with her leather jacket and pants, you do the math.

"Shoot him," was her simple answer.

"WHAT?!" Edward heard Harley's voice mirror his own at the thought of her shooting Warner dead right here, right now from a long-range distance. Well, the window of that place they were watching through was opened anyways, and he could imagine ending it all tonight would fix the problem anyway. Jon snickered and nudged him.

"It's the principle, Eddie. Not like she'll kill him too soon."

"With a _shotgun_?" Edward returned. "What's she going to accomplish with that stupid thing if she's not going to kill him?"

Ivy was watching Iris remove the safety with an interested eye. "I'll say settling the conflict without changing the course of history, Nygma."

"That's right, boys," Iris answered as she took up position and aimed the rifle just as she wanted it. "It also stings like a bitch." Edward leaned forward to the telescope and watched as the young girl gave the professor a frightened look as she began to slip of her shirt, but Warner's back was facing the window so that Edward couldn't see his face. He turned away so that he wouldn't see any more of what that poor thing was going to endure.

And then there was the sound of a gunshot.

"Alright, let's roll, ladies and gents!" Harley shouted, picking up the telescope and making way for the van, tossing it in and then hopping in for the driver's seat, Edward and the others following. He heard her and Pam both squealing with laughter as the latter closed the rear doors, the blonde started the engine and reared them out of there.

Once they were settled in, Edward looked to see Jon leaning into Iris, face beet red from attempting to hold his laughter in, while Harley was shrieking it off with her girl in the front of the van. He couldn't keep a snicker from escaping himself. "Did you hit him?"

"Ass shot," Iris answered, slapping a hand over her mouth. "He'll never touch her again. Or ever."

~o~

Iris was hoping she would never have to lay eyes on this hell again. Gotham State University had always been the seventh layer of hell, at least in her opinion. She strode the halls in a blue iris turtleneck and black trousers and boots with her coat slung over one arm and her purse in the other, in a worse mood than she was before. All day she'd received looks from staff and patients alike, even heard the whispers as though she'd developed telepathic powers: _The doc's getting married. And to a man old enough to be her grandfather! How disgusting and unattractive is that?_ Oh, they had no idea. Well, once things were fixed, life would go on.

She listened to Jonathan's voice on her Bluetooth. _"Not a happy return, I know."_

She scoffed. "You have no idea," she whispered so that no one would hear her. "Least of all heading to the dean's office to ask where his classroom is."

He chuckled _. "Doesn't being back there bring back so many happy memories?"_ he asked, sarcasm half there and half not there.

"Indeed, and I feel sick." Iris smiled as she finally stopped in front of Dr. Long's office. Not that she was smiling because she was here - well, half because she would get the direction as to where Dr. Warner's classroom was. "But just the ones of us are putting a smile on my face." She put her hand on the knob. "I'm here now, so hang on and listen." She then reached up to turn on the small button next to the speaker - no, not for Jonathan's voice to be heard - for him to listen in on her conversations with others.

Jonathan gave a heavy sigh. _"Won't be pleased hearing_ his _voice again."_

"Not that I ever wanted to be here, despite him calling me away from work to come here just for a question. Could have told me on the phone for all I care," Iris replied with a snort. _But no, he_ had _to say it was important for me to face him._ She removed her hand from the knob and knocked once, twice.

"Come in," called a familiar elderly voice from her past that she hadn't heard until now.

"Hello, Dr. Long." Iris closed the door behind her, pushing her hair past her shoulder and facing the familiar wizened, white-haired and mustached face of the man responsible for her beloved's disgrace. His eyes widened behind his glasses in recognition.

"Why, Iris DeLaine. It's been a long time." He rose from behind his desk to greet her, looking her over. "You've grown more beautiful than you were then. What brings you back after all these years?"

"Surely you know of my reputation," Iris answered with a cold frost to her own voice as she accepted the older man's handshake.

"Ah yes, head of the Arkham Asylum, following your former teacher after he lost it all." Her anger was rising again - it was so easy for foul talk of Jonathan to get to her so fast - but she remained aloof on the outside as always. "But I heard he's been reformed and now you two are an item. How is he, if I may ask?" She wasn't sure if he really meant his words or if he was only saying them just to be polite.

"Very well. He's head librarian of the Gotham Memorial Library," she answered smoothly. "And we're very happy."

"But what's this I hear about you and one of my revered psychology professors? Dr. Victor Warner? He tells me that you and him are -"

Iris cut him off sharply. "That is confidential, but I'll keep it short. He is using every dirty little trick he has to ruin my life, but I have no proof to keep him away, so until then, this is my battle against him. Now the reason I'm here is I would like to know what classroom number he is."

Dr. Long casted her a searching, wary look before he cleared his throat. "Oh, um…room 313. I trust you remember the way, then, Miss DeLaine?"

"It's Doctor now," she said coldly, turning to leave, before she felt his hand on her arm.

"Forgive me, Iris, but I've been meaning to ask you this. I wish that, in the future, we could put any unpleasant encounters and events aside and move forward?"

Given how he ruthlessly casted her lover out like he was garbage? Iris glared at him, then at his hand and shrugged it off. "I'll consider. Thank you, Dr. Long, and good day to you."

 _"Well, he sure knows how to flatter and feebly get out of situations at hand,"_ Jonathan commented in her ear.

Iris hissed as she walked up the staircase she remembered having difficulty due to the width and height of the steps. "Not to mention pretend we don't have a difficult past."

She found room 313 with no difficulty, as this had been her classroom and on the same floor of her days here, where Jonathan's office had been along the corridor like everyone else's, except his class had been taken over by Dr. Johannes, an old windbag who often took a working vacation and always got away with it. But now Johannes was retired, and in his place was none other than Dr. Warner. She hesitantly knocked on the door, remembering the good old days with Jonathan as her teacher and all those glorious times together.

The door opened, and there was the man himself sticking his head out and peering at her with another sickening grin of his. "I knew you would come." He slipped out of the classroom and closed the door behind him. He winced, and she mentally smirked, knowing exactly what was making him do so.

"So, why have you deliberately made me come all the way out here when you could have saved the trouble by telling me over the phone?"

He chuckled. "Well, I just wanted to see your sweet face again." He tried to put his hand on her cheek, but she back away. He laughed. "Don't be like that, Iris. We'll be married soon before you know it, and you'll have to get use to me touching you."

She heard Jonathan's sharp hiss at what he heard, and felt her stomach run again. "I would rather die than have someone like you take me to bed or anywhere in the world."

"You'll might as well have to get used to this. Soon I'll have you and whatever you have to own. So…" He put his hands on his hips. "I would love for you to come by my house tonight at eight. Since you're my wife in practice if not by law just yet, I would suggest you start getting used to me before that day comes. So…dress a _ppropriately…_ " The way he said that word drew the feeling again not only to her stomach, but also to her heart and nerves. Her head clicked at the possibilities of him laying on her the way he did to Jonathan. "…and I'll get the house ready for tonight. Be there, no excuses." The menacing look in his eyes faded, replaced by a friendly smile. "I shall see you tonight, Iris."

"Until tonight," Iris answered, turning to leave.

 _"God, this means I have to call in the others,"_ Jonathan moaned on the other line. _"Look, I have to go, my love, but please be careful."_

"Aren't I always?" Iris replied, confidence returning along with a smirk, before placing a loud kiss for him to hear and ended the connection. Just as she was about to reach the stairs and find the entrance doors, she spotted a familiar face walking her way, handbag held close to her, auburn hair again in a ponytail, wearing faded jeans and a hot pink t-shirt. Iris recognized her as the girl Warner brought home just last night. She had a somber, distant look on her face that showed she wasn't all there, and looked like she came from the girls' restroom or someplace to get away from Warner.

"Excuse me," she said, bringing the girl to a sudden halt. She walked up to her, courage swelling to protect this person from the monstrous teacher. "I'm sorry to bother you, but may I ask what your name is?"

"Amber," came the timid reply, and Iris' heart broke.

"Amber," she repeated. "My name is Iris DeLaine. I'm a doctor, and I run the Arkham Asylum, and I know what happened between you and Dr. Warner." She lowered her voice to a hush in case anyone was listening. She saw the girl go rigid at the mention of her teacher's name. "I have a loved one who used to be his student at another school before this, and I know what he did to him, which I can't explain for his sake. But tell me…did he do the same to you?" Amber gave her a fearful look, and quickly hurried over to a bench and sat down, face downcast to the floor. Iris followed her, putting both hands on her back for comfort. "Amber, it's okay. You can tell me. Whatever you say will be between us, and anything you can say will help me put him away for a long time. He's been a suspect for repeat sex assaults on others before you and my loved one, so I need your help."

This was when Amber finally looked up at her, her eyes colored of her name red-rimmed and glassy with tears, fear evident in them. "Well…" she began hesitantly. "…I'm one year until graduation, and I want to be a doctor one day, and he…offered to help me succeed, so he invited me to his house. I didn't know that he…wanted me to…" She broke off with a hiccup and a sniffle, a tear finally rolling down her cheek that Iris wiped away with a single finger.

"Shhh. It's okay. He's not going to hurt you. Listen to me, Amber." She reached into her bag and pulled out her card with the asylum's address, her office and cell number. "If you ever need me, this is my card. Just call or visit me yourself. And whatever you do…do _not_ go anywhere alone with him, okay?"

~o~

 _"There's going to be the old man having you in his house, making you play house just to get into your pants later. Or at least,_ try _to get into your pants,"_ Edward heard Harley say through the phone connection on his way home, via speakerphone. _"And all you'll do is shock him without any more fun than that?"_

This conversation was getting pretty boring especially with him having to listen to those two back and forth, Harley from the van she'd kept a distance from DeLaine Manor and Iris in her SUV on the way to the library to pick up Jonathan. _"What else am I supposed to do, Harley? Broadcast it on the Internet?"_

Edward was hoping none of the sort, given the scandal it would cause if viewers knew that the asylum's youngest female director was recorded on YouTube with a man three times her age - even if she were engaged to him. But the harlequin was heaving heavy breaths as though the idea struck her happy. _"Yeah."_

His heart just about leaped into his throat, and he felt his bloodflow chill. "No, Harley, she can't do that. You ought to know the scandal it'll cause on her reputation if -"

The blonde's squealing laughter cut him off. _"Eddie, shut up, will you? If Blue doesn't do this and shock him with her undies and post the event online, how will we make his life before the will-be-crashed wedding all the more fun?"_

Edward sighed at the same time as Iris, who voiced exactly what he was just thinking about at the very moment he stopped at the red light. _"I don't like it, Eddie, but she's got a point."_

 _"See?"_ He could picture Harley pointing in her direction to prove her point. _"Even the lady herself knows I mean well. Now…all we gotta do is set up a private link into his house - cordless, of course - and we know that Jervis can devise it before tonight. Not that he ever stops his genius creations at all times of the day anyway. And then Red and I will privately link it on the net, saying that the engaged good professor is having the time of his life before the big day…and enjoying his last days and nights as a single man."_

~o~

"I do _not_ like the looks of this," Jonathan said infuriatingly to Eddie as they sat before the laptop in DeLaine Manor's sitting room. The screen was blank, but Iris had installed a spy communications device into the bra of her latest shock undergarment set so that she could hear what they were saying to her, and so she could talk to them - the former which could be heard through her barely visible ear device and unheard by others around her, very much like the FBI movies.

By now Iris was on her way to Warner's house again in Ivy and Harley's van, with the feminine duo watching the footage from the van, hidden within the forestry of the suburbs, of course. Jonathan did not adore the idea of the love of his life doing this for a hidden camera to be broadcasted the same time for everyone on the Internet at this time - ranging from perhaps Joan Leland to any of the inmates with computer access at the asylum, to anyone on the board and student body of GSU, to anyone in Gotham - but Harley was masterfully convincing, as ever.

 _"So glad you could make it,"_ Warner's voice sounded on the speaker, making Jonathan stiffen at once. _"You look…rather daring."_

 _"Well, you_ did _say dress appropriate,"_ Iris returned, seduction all but creeped into her voice. She was really good at mastering seduction even if she hated a certain person, and that was something Jonathan had been drawn to about her from the very beginning.

 _"Well, follow me, my dear, and we can begin."_

Edward groaned. "I did _not_ like the way he said that." He reached for the bottle of ale beside him and took a swig.

"Me, too." Jonathan reached for his own but did not drink it, only stared at it, impatient for all of this to be done with. "But at least we get to see Warner humiliated some more. Jervis' invention is meant for putting him out for awhile." _If I recall,_ he thought, _an indefinite period of time, but no more than a week. He'll probably lose his job for no return calls and then put into a hospital._

Iris' voice broke him out of his reverie. _"Say, Victor, why don't you get the champagne, and I'll get situated in here. Be the gentleman and do that for me?"_ Innocence and vulnerability was adorable in her even when she was acting it. Warner chuckled at that.

 _"Oh,_ now _you want me to retrieve it all for you? Just because we'll be married soon, you want the old man to do everything for a little lady like you?"_ How dare he speak of Iris like that? She was stronger than he thought, and more capable than he ever was. He just saw her as a toy for his carnal pleasures. Well, that was a mistake Jonathan made in believing a long time ago, yet Iris was more aware than he ever had been. She noticed his moves and language on her more than he ever did.

Silence passed by before the screen on the computer came on, and there the two men had the footage of the living room. It was still the same as they remembered: like they'd stepped inside the mind of a lust-filled asshole, and that was what Dr. Warner was. There was a vibrant red futon lounger thrown with a Tapas throw woven with rich hues of chili red, coffee brown, and gold. Standing beside it was a tall elephant of embossed, painted metal, its long trunk extending in the air toward a large, artful medallion mirror behind the futon. The crafted scrolled metalwork stand of a lamp was lit to add warmth to the room despite the situation…meant to be luring and seducing, but not to a fiery vixen like Iris DeLaine.

And then there was Iris, standing there before the camera she'd placed hidden somewhere in a bookcase that faced that part of the sitting area. She was absolutely alluring in the figure-hugging black velvet dress that reached her wrists and the floor, and her hair was done up into a larger bun than usual behind her head, curled lovingly and laced through with pearls. Vintage crystal chandelier earrings accented her ears, and the black metal Venetian mask did its wonders in shielding her true face to the world. Sleek black leather gloves that covered her hands to prevent the left of fingerprints ran under her sleeves. Since none of the actual dancing footage had been recorded yet, neither had previous conversations as the goal was for Iris to be dressed as a random masked stripper that the old man brought to his home. "Now this is where I say 'Thank you for this wonderful night,'" Jonathan said to Eddie, who shared a laugh with him over his beer. "Now I think I can safely say that I'm going to thank Harley now."

Just then the phone rang, and Eddie answered it for him. Only one person could call them at this time. "What's up, Harl?"

Her voice giggled hysterically through the speaker. _"Looks like Blue's ready to get her game on."_

"I heard that!" Jonathan yelled, receiving a cackle.

 _"Of course_ you _did, Jonny. That's your girl, after all. Anyways, I'm calling to let ya'll know that I addressed the net system. This is going out to every computer in Gotham."_ She giggled again. _"Boy, this is gonna be fun to watch again and again. Mistah J would be proud of me if he were here."_

Eddie scoffed and set the phone down, not hanging up though. He and Jonathan then watched as Warner himself came into the scene. _"I thought that the little doll was getting ready,"_ he said with a raised eyebrow, _"because I brought us a piece of celebration."_ He raised the bottle of champagne in his hand for emphasis. Iris smirked first at the camera and then turned around to face him.

 _"Well, I have a better celebration idea in mind, Professor, so please sit down."_ She nodded to the futon and turned and started for the stereo that seemed to be on the same bookshelf as the camera. Behind her back, Jonathan saw the professor give her a wink at her backside - he longed to take Iris' scythe and slice him up to pieces - before sitting down on the futon as instructed. Pretty soon, upbeat music began to fill the room, a song he recognized as _Calling Your Name_ by Anomaly, and she began to shake it off as she turned back to face the professor, who was watching her with a patient hunger in his expression.

"Now we're in business," Eddie said, though there was disgust evident in his voice just as Jonathan felt it in his gut as he watched his lover sashay, dip, and turn every direction with each movement to the ugly old man on the futon. As the seconds passed, the more Jonathan would turn back to face him and see his expression deepen from calm to… "This is disgusting," he said finally, reaching for his bottle for a drink to calm himself down.

Jonathan shook his head in agreement, and that was when Pamela chipped in her own idea of agreement with _"What the freak is_ this _?"_ but he could also imagine the bubbly Harley dancing off to the music in the background. He pitied any other poor soul watching this at this moment and time.

And then Iris did _this_ : she began to drop her dress _very slowly_ , starting from the shoulders and down the arms until it was off at the wrists. The velvet had been pulled down to reveal the bra piece of the "corset collection" of her electric undergarments, which was very much the resemblance of its name, the piece black as her dress - lace underlined with black lurex and lacing in the front between the bust. She began to hump her buttocks - which faced the professor's predator gaze - the same time she began to slip off the rest of her dress to show the lace garter skirt and thong part of her underset…and _then_ she made the adorably clumsy mistake of turning around as she began to remove the rest of her dress the way off, and literally _fell_ to the floor. Jonathan couldn't contain his laughter in spite of himself, putting his face in his hands to hide his eyes from the awkward sight, which he knew that viewers would end up doing the same. Pamela and Harley's shrieking laughs were heard on the phone still lying where it was. Eddie had fallen back against the head of the sofa, roaring with laughter.

Iris eventually managed to recompose herself and toss aside her dress somewhere across the room, before moving and pulling out a nearby chair and proceeded to do her thing in humping her hips against it like she was "riding a horse". Eddie groaned and hid his face in his hands. "She did not just take out that chair."

But Jonathan nodded. "Yep. She took out the chair." This segment didn't last long before Iris discarded it and moved for Warner on the chair, placing one foot on the futon while the other leg remained planted where it was, keeping her balanced.

 _"So…be gentle with me, Professor, and touch me like you mean it…"_ Now _this_ was what he didn't want to see. That sick old man touching the woman that was his and his only. He unwillingly watched as Iris took his hand and guided it not on her breasts, but down her stomach - this was the point where Harley _shrieked_ \- and then let that hand go for him to reach the waistband of her garter and…

Then it happened in a flash. Warner screamed as the surge of electrical current shot from the hidden wires under the lace and lurex, convulsed as though from barbed fencewire that you'd find around a prison, and then he flopped back onto his futon and laid perfectly still as stone. Jonathan cheered in relief that Iris had accomplished the next step of their mission, then watched as she picked up her dress and rushed over to grab her dress and shut off the radio before getting the camera as soon as the footage turned black and presumably rushed away from the scene.

Harley's wild laugh was then heard: _"Houston, we have a problem."_

 **AHAHAHAHAHHHA! I LOVED doing the "shocking Warner" scene from the get-go, much thanks to the scene in "American Pie" when Jim stripped for Nadia to the same song in here. It's always the reason I watched that movie. XD And thanks to Cells-girl's "shock undies" inspiration.**


	26. Erotic Enlightenment

**Now that Warner will be out for awhile, it's back to the main couple. Iris and Jon have such a fabulous love life who can resist them? XD**

Chapter Twenty-Five

Erotic Enlightenment

The first thing she received when she arrived at Arkham the next morning was a chorus of laughs and cheers. Iris pretended not to know what all the fuss was about, but nevertheless she put on a smile and asked, "What's everyone so happy about?"

One of her patients, a woman named Wendy, responded with barely contained giggles. "You haven't seen the video on the internet, Doctor? It's been all over since last night."

"What video?" She hoped her face showed the façade of innocence as she wanted it to.

"That video of your fiancée, the professor. He got…s _hocked_ by a stripper he brought home for a romp. Perhaps to have some last nights as a single man before you guys get married."

"By shocked, she means that the masked dancer had her underpants underwired with electrical currents and left him in a coma. I heard he's in the hospital for his treatment. The university gave him leave until he submerged," called out another male patient accompanied by two guards on his way to therapy.

Just that news being music to her ears. Warner was out like a circuit thanks to Jervis' genius device, for a week at most but no more. As the old saying goes, "you'll be out for a week". She giggled as she headed for her office with a smirk on her face as she imagined no having to deal with Warner for a week. But that also meant having to proceed with the wedding plans while he was out. Farnsworth had called her and said that he would stop by and help her begin the preparations even if he didn't like it any more than she did.

When she got there, Joan was waiting for her, again. She had made a habit of doing that a lot whenever she came in, even though her shift wasn't for another half hour. She was beginning to show her belly, the outline of four months bulging through her petal pink blouse. In her free hand that wasn't cradling her baby bump was a pink bag that could only be… "Joan, that cannot be Victoria's Secret lingerie," Iris moaned as she drew her keys and stuck the one to her office in the lock.

The other doctor gave her a mischievous grin. "I'm sorry, Iris, but it is."

Iris felt the reaction come faster than one of her precious toxin chemicals as she pulled out the lingerie piece. The bra was ivory overlaid with black lace while the bottom piece was a lacy mini-skirt that rose higher to the tops of the thighs. "Oh, Joan, what the hell am I going to use this for?"

"For Jonathan," she answered with a wily grin. "The chick selling this told me this was a 'love potion', to draw him under your spell more than he already is."

"Really, I do not need another set -"

There was a knock on her door that made them both jump. "Come in," Iris called, quickly shoving the lingerie back into the bag and hiding it in the middle drawer of her desk. The door opened and in walked Farnsworth. "Oh, Jim, it's you."

He gave her a warm smile. "What, were you expecting that old fool Warner?" he asked with a chuckle, shaking his head. "Last I heard of him was that he was in the hospital for what happened on that video." He gave her a knowing smirk. She returned it.

"You saw that?"

"Got over sixty million hits on YouTube, from what I heard from the gossiping little ladies of the office. Got what he deserved and never saw it coming. And that was very smart of you to hide your face, except I knew who you were," he said, his face showing flushes of red of embarrassment.

"Don't be ashamed, Jim," Iris assured him. "That was all part of the plan, after all. Speaking of plans…" She didn't want to say it, so she let the sentence hang. He nodded in understanding.

"Oh, well, yes. Maria's last will was to have the same plans for you as hers. I know this isn't what you want, but…"

"Another part of Warner's ultimate humiliation," Iris finished with a dark glitter in her eyes.

~o~

Jonathan smirked as he took one last look at the sweet alcoholic beverages he'd made for Iris and himself as soon as they arrived home but saved for after dinner. Since Warner was in the hospital and they were safe for a week at most, he'd done the job of treating her like a queen for the time being. Not that he hadn't done it before; this time they needed to spare as much as possible before the old man awoke out of his coma. _Make it last while you can._

She sat on the kitchen counter in a long, elegant slip of teal silk and a black lace bodice, her hair loose down her back as she watched him prepare the ginger peach margaritas - pureed with fresh peaches, ginger syrup, lime juice, and tequila - and bring over their glasses, handing hers to her and then raising his for a silent toast. Since margaritas were strong on tequila and sometimes rum, they went rather slow with sipping, but nevertheless the alcohol began to take its effect on both their minds until there was nothing else to dwell on but each other. Jonathan found himself leaning against her chest, feeling her arms wrap around his shoulders as she pulled him close to her so he could listen to her heartbeat and smell the argan oils on her skin…and caress the silkiness of her breasts with his lips. Unable to help himself, he let his hand ghost up her leg and vanish under her skirt so he could find the destination of her womanhood and slip inside to feel her moisture start to warm like a hot tub.

He wasn't sure how they ended up where they were now - clothes torn off to show all skin and anatomy, nude bodies frantically grasping for each other - but he didn't care. He wanted her now, tonight, and for the rest of the week and their time together before…God, he forgot who their enemy was for the moment, but it would return later…and then he was aware that he was sitting in one of the grand chairs of the dining room, surrounded by the luxury of France, and Iris was straddling him in a way he didn't recall being positioned before, but the feel of her posterior side clamped tighter around his shaft was exhilarating - his hardened member was straddled as she leaned back slightly, placing her hands on his knees. Her lovely legs were extended as each of her ankles rested on his shoulders, and pumped herself back and forth with speed that rose and fell and made sure that they both _moaned_ like never before. The thrusting was supercharged in time with the balance between her weight and her ankles…and the work of his free hand on her exposed entrance brought forth magic with the resulting climax that spiced up the post-coital bliss. Both collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily and sustaining only minor bruises, the chair creaking only slightly on the floor, and the heavy weight of the margaritas in their systems beginning to take toll. Iris managed to lift her head up to him and give him a small grin through her damp hair that fell before her eyes.

"I should call in sick tomorrow. I won't be able to get up from this floor tonight."

Jonathan gave her a lazy chuckle and brushed the hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "I should, too. I won't be able to walk tomorrow…after I have more rounds with you."

~o~

Barb at the reception had sounded a little suspicious when Iris called in sick for the day but she didn't question her. While Iris didn't have the strongest feelings for the receptionist since day one on her first day at the asylum under Jonathan, she was happy to know that she wouldn't dare question Iris DeLaine if she wanted to consider the consequences. So in other words, it was safe for Iris to spend the day and recover from the minor hangover from the previous night - hangover minus the memory loss. The positive side was that the alcohol brought out the more fun and adventurous side for her to do those new moves she'd done the previous night. The Kama Sutra had said about that particular position, known as the lap dance - not the kind in a strip club where the guy got oral works from the exotic dancer he was tipping - had unmatched intimacy potential. How many people were even seen this close? As quoted, _this primo erotic view will give your guy fantasy material for weeks to come. Spice it up with some extra-special lingerie that you can seductively toss to turn him on to add even more steam to this sack session._ The latter she'd done with help during the margarita session, and it lured him onto her indefinitely.

Well, as soon as this headache was gone and Jonathan's, she planned to do that again and use another round of tantric sex to tease, tempt, and thoroughly please him for the whole rest of the day. Except the mood when she awoke naked next to an equally nude Jonathan on the dining room floor earlier had been ruined when a certain redheaded vixen walked in on them and startled them to the point of explosion.

"Pamela, what the hell?!" Jonathan had shouted, bolting up to cover himself up. He'd darted his head around the room to find where he'd discarded his clothing until he found them strewn about, crawling over to grab his black-and-white checkered shirt. "Don't you knock?!"

Ivy had shrugged casually as she leaned against the doorway, chewing softly on a red apple she'd pulled out from the fridge. "I'm sorry, but it's nothing I hadn't seen before, you know. I do it with Harley every day and night."

"Oh, please don't spill the details." Iris hadn't been as angry or humiliated as Jonathan was, but she still had to retrieve her nightgown and hide her modesty and glance over to Jonathan, who had buttoned his shirt up and bent over for his jeans and underwear, where she'd had a view of his tight, round backside. She had giggled to herself and left the dining room, walking past the redhead and scowling at her with disapproval before heading to the downstairs bathroom to retrieve some aspirin and then call in. She'd heard Jonathan do the same to the library and put his second new assistant in his place for the day.

There was the indescribable smell of breakfast, one of which she could tell was eggs. When she walked into the kitchen, wearing her favorite robe over her latest lingerie set for later on, there was Harley at the stove, wearing another revealing costume - why wouldn't she even listen when Iris made it clear that _this_ was _her_ house and _not_ _Harley's_ \- that was a black-and-white mesh polka dot bustier with underwire cups, red satin ribbon lacing up the front, and a ruffled hem over a garter G-string and sheer black tight stockings. Poor Jonathan had his eyes lowered the whole time the harlequin cooked breakfast for them to a glass of a pale peach-colored smoothie drink, but Pamela was eyeing her the way she always did, with a short-lingering suggestive wink. Iris walked into the site just in time for Harley to yell out. "Well, Blue, whaddya think? I made a fine feast for the morning! Scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and chives, peach pie smoothies -" Really, peach pie with breakfast? Almost too good to be true. "- cinnamon buns, and Spanish omelets with Romesco sauce!"

Breakfast was literally a feast for them. The scrambled eggs had been made in less than six minutes, followed by Harley folding smoked salmon within the cheery yellow mess and finally brightening them with crisp, fresh chives and a subtle onion flavor. As it turned out, the peach smoothies were heavenly to the point of making you want to end breakfast right there. The comforting aroma of spicy cinnamon and nutmeg sprinkled between layers of the homemade cinnamon buns could bring even the deepest sleepers scurrying to the breakfast table. Last of all, Harley had used the flavors of Spain in the omelets - Iberico ham, Manchego cheese and spicy tomato-pepper Romeso sauce - for his twist on the classic omelet. Iris heaved a sigh of relief when she'd finished, the weight of the feast in her delicate little stomach too much to handle, and it made her wonder if she could ever manage another round with Jonathan.

She finally settled on lying with Jonathan in the sitting area, just the two of them, while Ivy and Harley were off elsewhere for more "alone time", him lying in just his plaid shirt from yesterday and a pair of boxer shorts, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer to him. He spooned up against her, throwing one leg around her to entrap her in his embrace. Iris moaned as the warm heat of his body filled her insides with the same temperature. She'd known this man for over ten years, and it was so easy for him to make her feel this way about him.

Then she remembered something from the "good book": _This is the perfect way to wake him up: Lie on your sides with him behind you so you're both facing the same direction. Push your buttocks toward him and guide him into you. Put your hand on his and show him how you want your clitoris to be touched. Have him alternate between there and your breasts._

That "saucy spoon" could always be alternated. Not that Iris minded anal sex, but she'd already done it last night and felt like a change right now. Using her free hand, she undid the sash at her waist and flipped open her robe to reveal her latest teddy - this illicit mystic black piece with a sheer mesh body and a floral lace bikini bottom, the bust of thicker lace and unlined underwire cups. She took his hand that rested on her thigh and brought it over that place, trailing upwards so that it was rested over her clothed core, slipping between the tiny slit where her clitoris was hidden behind the thicket but exposed to the air and his touch. She moaned at the sensations of the act, but then in disapointment when he withdrew his finger from there and moved up the path of her stomach to her left breast, fondling it gently. Finally she couldn't take it anymore and rolled over on her other side so she faced him, supporting her head with her hand as she used the other to push the slit of her bottom open to give him more access and pull out more of her into the open. His eyes hazed at the sight as he, too, fished out his own sex through the front opening of his boxers and proceeded to slip into the heated interior of her pleasure and began to thrust into her gently as they were on the couch and he didn't want to shove her off by mistake or on purpose. She wrapped her leg around his waist, hooking it around him to keep a good hold as she brought her hand on that side up to wound in his hair as she brought him down for a kiss.

Then there was the sound of a throat being cleared. "Oh, I'm sorry, but uh, Blue?" Iris shrieked as she bolted out of her lover's embrace and toppled onto the floor, accidentally banging her head on the edge of the coffee table and getting a minor migraine. Jonathan, on the other hand, sat up fast and tucked himself back into his shorts with haste.

"Harley, what the hell?! Are you just walking in on other couples now?!" he bellowed, angrier than he was at Pamela earlier. "Why couldn't you have just waited until we were done?!"

She looked at him with an innocent grin. "I have something to show Blue. If you mind."

"Oh, why not?" Iris recovered from her fall faster than expected and stood up to follow her out of the living room. She noticed now that Harley had donned a tight red tee and black shorts that rose high above the knees, thankful that she didn't have anymore of her revealing teddies for awhile. "Care to tell me what's so important that you had to interrupt our -"

She was cut off when Harley flourished something before her eyes. Her jaw dropped at once. The chemise was a luxurious red satin that shimmered brighter than any ruby in the world, the bodice black lace with red cups that showed through and complement the breasts. With it was a matching red robe. "Oh, no, this can't be my style…" she tried to object.

"Oh, tush," Harley brushed. "You really don't get this, do you, Blue? This is perfect to spice up the act. You've never worn red before, not counting your date night with you-know-who, so at least try this. You'll find I was right." She winked. Iris glared at her as she took the garment.

"Does this mean I get to try this now, just when I'm already gussed and ready?" she asked, motioning to her current ensemble. Harley stared at it for a second before throwing her head back and laughing.

"Not at all. I would recommend…later on when you _tuck_ him into bed," she answered with a suggestive wink of the eye.

~o~

Hot water mingled with the silky soft suds of his Chinese shampoo and rolled down his body, which responded with a higher temperature than the water - at least in his mind and down below his waist - prompting him to reach for the Divine Nectar, flavored luscious, creamy vanilla with a hint of orange citrus, and popped the top so he could slick a fingerload onto the tip of himself. His body again responded the same way as before, but with more pleasurable jolts of electricity. He moaned as he masturbated in the open air that was his shower, surrounded by a surreal nature at its finest. He felt like the bird of his namesake in its very own Japanese serenity. Calm and free and at peace, with nothing and no one to interfere.

The whole time he touched himself, standing under the "rainfall", he thought of Iris and how they've been through so much lately. The rings and Sylvia's letter and everything else prior to that made him reconsider how he was living his lifestyle with her. He loved everything about her, enough said, but there was more that he wanted. He didn't want her to be just his lover and soulmate…he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He wanted her as his _wife_.

But Warner came first, and they both knew it.

Once he finished himself off - self-pleasuring and shower wise - he turned it off and stepped out, padding across the floor on bare feet for his towel on the screen, drying off eagerly and ready for bed.

However, he had not expected to see the surprise on his bed.

"Iris," he said, surprised at her surprise show, remembering their first night together at her grandmother's place. She was now displaying this same need for temptation…and she was tempting him while he was naked in front of her eyes, and while she was in this sexy chemise and robe set he'd never seen before. The luxurious red satin flushed against her ivory skin while the black lace over her breasts - which were outlined by the red cups shown through the sheer fabric - shimmered with her free-tumbling locks.

And then he saw it: that short, round jar of creamy brown…Lover's Body Paint. The product used for those who were tempted by their more…c _reative_ side. He smirked as it dawned on him where his woman was heading with this. And that dress…it had to have been Harley's idea, given she'd been pulled away from him earlier.

She raised an eyebrow at him, then puckered her lips - which he then noticed were painted a darker but soft pink - in a sexy pout at him. "Well, are you going to just stand there, or are you going to come to bed?" Those words were all it took for him to saunter over and climb on top of her in his bed, but her hands on his chest stopped him.

Jonathan furrowed his brows as he regarded her with confusion. "Iris?"

"On your back." He obeyed without question, still staring up at her. "Jonathan, I realize that this right here…" She held up the brown jar. "…is something we haven't tried yet, and I'm talking about… _creativity_ ," she told him with a wink. "Which means that I get to be in control again here, and enjoy painting your body with artwork from my fingers…" She wiggled her black-tipped nails in his face, making him laugh. "…and then…" She leaned forward to capture his lips with hers, and he tasted sweet strawberries. "…kiss and taste _every_ inch of you." He groaned at the images conjured up, the blood rushing through him like lava in the mountain's core and going straight to his groin. His hardness picked up and pointed at her, pressing against her bared core under her skirt.

It wasn't long until Iris began to get to work on him as she said she would. The paint smelled like sweet and creamy milk chocolate to his nostrils, from his front to his back and even when she opened the jar. He was turned over onto his back, his member pressing into the bed; he longed to touch himself, but it was difficult because Iris was creating a masterpiece on his back that he couldn't tell from how he was lying facedown. He uttered a moan when she continued down over his buttocks, fingers and the rich creamy paint doing things to his skin that still surprised him after all those countless nights. Her lips and tongue followed, leaving sensual gestures of liquid warmth like the various warm teas Jervis was fond of obsessively brewing. He was then turned over his front, where she continued to give him the same treatment, and this time he had a view of her artworks. On his chest she created the outlines of his body features on those very parts of him, everything from his chest to his stomach and pelvic region…and finally his manhood, where the feel of her soft lips wrapped around him caused him to really gasp and shudder and nearly arch off the bed. He was melting, melting away at the feeling…her lip fetishes indulging him greatly in a torrent of oral pleasures…

"No…" he moaned when he unwillingly but gently pushed her off of him just as he was on the verge of coming. "I don't…I can't come, not yet…"

She smirked and moved upwards, raising her arms up a little for him to removed both her chemise and robe in one piece and toss them to the foot of the bed. She still knelt between his legs, lowering herself onto him so that they were touching. Keeping her knees on the bed, she curled her feet around the inside of his legs, mainly around his knees. Jonathan smiled up at her as he gazed into her hazy sapphire eyes while she leaned forward and grabbed the bed sheets on either side of his head. While holding the sheets - and her feet wrapped around Jonathan's calves - she tilted her pelvis and moved around him in small, tight motions, and Jonathan knew for sure that he was going to get a good night's sleep tonight.

 **No one has said anything to me about this, but I thought I should clear this: I'm not forcing love scenes in any way; they're what helps guide as well as to "tease and tempt". ;) That's another main point of the story which is also a message of the Kama Sutra: unlock the secrets to passion and desire.**


	27. Tale as Old as Time

**During shopping in this first scene, Iris and Pamela find wedding dish sets and champagne flute sets that are also lavish real ones as well as the names and description terms.**

Chapter Twenty-Six

Tale as Old as Time

"Seriously, Iris, how could you possibly consider proceeding with wasting your precious money on a marriage ceremony to a disgusting old beast like Dr. Warner?" Pamela asked as she took Iris out to a wedding store one day after she left Arkham, donning sunglasses and putting her hair behind her head, then finishing it off with a wrap. It had been five days since Warner was shocked into a coma, and so far life had been good with him out of the picture even if it was only temporary. "I understand why, but why didn't you at least keep your mother's old wedding set?"

"Because at that time, I never once thought of getting married - or ending up in a 'pretend to marry' situation," Iris answered. "I can always give them to the Goodwill or return with the receipt."

They had come to the dishware section of the store. Early on after Iris inherited everything, she'd pawned away much of Maria's old possessions for money for herself and for charity - the wedding dish set had been one of them. No regrets there, as she'd said once a long time ago, because none of those wedding possessions mattered to her, because Iris wanted her own wedding to be in accordance to whatever suited her. But no, they were already here and picking out new things…except they could always be returned or given to the Goodwill, as stated.

"How about this, Dr. DeLaine?" the male worker assisting them, named Tim, suggested as he showed them to a beautiful white set that could be dressed up with colorful placemats. "This is the _Isles_ collection. The beautiful white sand that forms ripples when the wind blows is incorporated around the rims of the plates and surrounding the mugs. The designer was inspired to design a white plate to remind him of the pure white sands that fills every beach in the Bahamas."

Iris regarded it with a small smile, thinking of how something this plain compared to Egypt would pop out amid the splendor of what the final ceremony and reception look would be like, but Pamela brushed it off. "Nah, she's getting married in a lavish Egyptian-themed wedding. She needs something that's just as grand and luxurious." She pointed to a few tables which displayed six different other sets. One was the _Monaco s_ et, white dishes rimmed thickly with gold. Monaco was one of the largest yachting capitals in the world, and the designer had to give the feel of wealth like you'd feel when arriving to said capital when creating this set. Iris gave it a little scowl and shook her head. Too wealthy for her taste.

Onward to the next set. The _Orchid Pearl_ was a stunning statement that was sure to stir up conversations at the table on any occasion with its bold plum color and platinum accents. But while this had a color close enough to the royal purple, Iris wasn't too fond of anything purple. Scratch off this one.

The texture that appeared on the _Constellation_ collection was as distinct as that star pattern of its name. "Your dinnerware is sure to stand apart from other when you choose this design in either the chrome or clear pattern," Tim explained, and for a moment, Iris was reminded of the Egyptian "morning and the evening star", but Pamela gave it a little sour face and shook her head.

The _Murano_ collection varied in colors from vibrant hues of aqua blue and fading to subtle amber, sure to attract the envy of friends, presented in hand-blown glass. But this was too colorful for her taste, so she waved this set off.

Next to last was the _Golden Luxor_ , in which a luxurious scroll design had been painted on dishes ranging from black to white and being the "focal point for any tablescape," as Tim said. "It's also perfect for any home and any meal to serve on," he added.

"Oh, my God, what's this one? Iris, honey, this is _perfect_!" Pamela was gushing at a dish set that caught Iris' attention if it weren't for the upcoming occasion. Tim smiled.

"This, ladies, is the _Athena_ collection. A sophisticated, classic white china set accented with an artistic band of gold that is sure to make a bold statement at your dinner table," he explained. "Comes with these flutes of your choice." He presented them with five options of champagne flutes with gold accents, a couple with crystal additions. The first set was made from museum gold plating beneath a pearl overlay set with Swarovski crystals. The second was more luxurious with different colored stems from red wine to silvery white to aqua blue, including more exquisite patterns of Swarovski crystals.

The third set, even though they were far from finished, was more majestic than all the rest, and to Iris it seemed more fitting than all the rest. They featured a sweeping lace pattern outlined in gold, each convergent point highlighted with small amounts of Swarovski crystals. She knew this was the right choice, and in her philanthropist's point of view, hardly anyone could afford something like this for their wedding - at least, for those who longed for a grand wedding but didn't have the money.

"Oh, I used to imagine getting married and having something like this on my wedding day," Pamela said, holding up a flute from the next collection. It was elegant and antique chic, fitting for a vintage-inspired wedding, masterfully crafted with hand-painted roses of gold and crystal accents. "But now it seems near impossible given the circumstances."

"And these…" Tim gestured to flutes similar to the multicolored set, except these were ivory and gold, and much more impressive on their own. "…are also made from gold plating and pearl overlay, much like the first choice, except these are more sophisticated and elegant, and bring out the rich design of Aurora Borealis Swarovski crystals."

"I like the third set best," Iris said. Pamela looked at her with surprise on her face, clearly saying she'd been thinking the same thing.

"Excellent choice," Tim said, clapping his hands together. "Given the option of personalizing them with you and your groom's names and the wedding date…"

"Oh, no need for that," Iris said hastily, not wanting to pawn these guys off afterwards if the ceremony was only meant to be a setup and no real marriage for her to that monster. "He and I will remember our day like it was yesterday. I'm sure of it." She gave Pamela a little nervous wink.

~o~

The Renoma Café was Edward's favorite place to take Joan out to dinner ever since high school. For those who enjoyed liveliness, Renoma Café Gallery was definitely a great place for couples to enjoy the fun yet sophisticated dinner. With the first café opened at Paris, the French brand Renoma brought its second café and cuisine into the heart Gotham. The place also lived up its concept as a chic dining restaurant with heavy influence from fashion, art and design from France. Edward had chosen tonight as the night to finally ask her the question. Fingering the object in his black suit pocket, he nervously guided her over to the table reserved for them.

She sat down across the table from him, smiling at him. Her hair ran loosely and lightly curled over both shoulders, her dress black with short sleeves and a softly draped neckline and gathered at the front, shaping and flattering curves in versatile style. Absolutely breathtaking, and she was everything he ever wanted.

"I can't believe you decided tonight and not on a weekend," she noted as she looked around her.

"Well, I just decided tonight was the night," Edward said, deciding now was the time to get this over with. He spotted the waiter approaching him with the tray of Chardonnay - rich citrus, vanilla, coconut, toast, and melon - in slender, ultra-modern flutes with plays of random bubbles in the shams.

Joan laughed and shook her head. "Eddie, I can't drink, remember? The doctor said so."

Something in him went down. This half-ruined the beginning of their celebration, but this was for the sake of their child, and he wasn't going to jeopardize that. "Okay, I won't make you drink it if you don't want to. Make that a strawberry smoothie for the lady?" he asked the waiter, who nodded and left him his champagne flute as he was desperate for a drink. Besides, due to pregnancy hormones and insatiable cravings, Joan had been longing for anything with strawberries as of late, and Iris had been lending her mints of those flavors at the asylum whenever she'd ask for something to munch on during work hours other than breaks.

"Eddie, really, you've been spoiling me too much," she told him.

He smirked at her. "You're my baby, and I'm supposed to do that. In fact…" He reached into his pocket for the little black box, pulling it out and holding it out in front of her. Her little chocolate eyes widened, and she gasped. "…I want to spend the rest of my life doing that for you. And I want to do the same for our son, or daughter. So, Joan…" He pulled the lid up to show her the little crystal ring. "…will you marry me?"

"Yes," she whispered, accepting the ring on her finger with all the excitement of a little girl receiving her birthday or Christmas present. The moment he saw it brilliantly adorn her finger quite well than he originally thought, his heart thundered loudly in his chest with anxiety and joy at the future for them lying ahead.

~o~

"She actually said yes! Eddie, I am so happy for the two of you," Jonathan said into his office phone on speakerphone as he cleaned his desk for the evening. He planned on heading home to with Iris in great spirits - he had plans for the both of them this evening, and it was far better than the way Belle and the Beast spent their evening in the dining hall and then the ballroom. No, this was all about him and her.

And he had just the perfect time to present to her what Sylvia had left for him… _when the time was right. Well, the time is now._

 _"I knew you would say that,"_ Eddie answered, and Jonathan could just picture him smiling. _"I've never been so happier. Can you believe I used to be a famous ladies' man, and now I'm finally settling down?"_

"You had her before you PARTED and became a ladies' man. And I used to be on my own until Iris came along," Jonathan replied, grabbing his black messenger bag and his keys. The ring had a large number of keys of different shapes, sizes, and designs. His old employer had been big on security, and so was he. You can never be too careful these days.

 _"Yeah, and speaking of Iris, when do you plan to…you know…?"_ He could just _hear_ the smirk in Eddie's voice.

"Tonight," Jonathan answered. "I plan on making dinner myself, and then taking her out of there for the rest of the night for the two of us…far better than _Beauty and the Beast_ …"

~o~

Iris could not believe that Jonathan decided to make dinner for the two of them tonight, as well as a dance for them afterwards. Here she was at the top of the stairs, on the left from the foyer entrance, wearing a long, elegant couture dark blue evening dress made from a silk-like material with knitted lining and beaded embroidery. Her hairstyle was extremely gorgeous with romantic soft waves and minor bejeweled accents, ears set with earrings that were delicately scrolled around moonstones, and Jonathan's pendant bumping lightly over her heart as she'd always felt. Her Athena arm band on her left forearm created a "unique design for that special someone", as the jewelers quoted. She felt like a princess - the more subdued but still elegant version of Belle - as she descended the stairs to where her man waited for her.

Jonathan wore a black suit and a tie striped with different shades of blue, his shirt vivid cobalt to bring out his icy blue eyes, his luxuriant raven hair parted down the middle and shining naturally, his beautiful face lit with a smile that had warmed her heart right from the very beginning. Iris reached the bottom to accept his outstretched hand, and he guided her into the dining room that was eighteenth-century France. Much like the time period and origin of the original fairytale of _Beauty and the Beast_.

She gasped at the way the dinner table had been set up, with all the ivory-and-gold dishes laid out the way they ought to be. Her mouth watered as her eyes beheld the sight of the big-on-taste but delightful dinner for two; he'd made them boneless pork chops with mushrooms and thyme. Vivid but deep red, herb-smelling merlot filled the goblets… _he's done all of this for me_ , she thought with another little gasp tearing from her lips as he led her into the room for the two of them. Déjà vu arose as she remembered that one night where he took her away from the bar and into the depths of the park where it was just the two of them, two dark souls of the night, and far away from the critical eyes of society. Tonight was far grander than that.

 _Tale as old as time_

 _Truth as it can be_

 _Barely even friends_

 _Than somebody bends_

 _Unexpectedly_

After their sumptuous evening meal, Jonathan arose from his chair and walked over to her, once more holding his hand out for her, and he brought her out of the dining room and through another doorway, much like in the beloved animated romance they cherished, until they were under a familiar golden ivory ceiling lit with an Italian gold-and-Swarovski chandelier. The eastern arched windows displayed the beauty of the impending darkness, the carpeting a silk in a vase and _mihrab_ design - the whole room was lit up brightly, too brightly in Jonathan's eyes - with a chandelier that had been constructed from Italian gold and Swarovski crystals and suspended from a deeply carved mosque-like ceiling of glowing ivory and goldwork.

 _Just a little change_

 _Small, to say the least_

 _Both a little scared_

 _Neither one prepared_

 _Beauty and the Beast_

Hearing that song reminded her of them back when they first met - then she'd never even before considered the possibilities that their bond would strengthen from then on…and now they were here. No regrets, no second thoughts…and no turning back. She felt his hand around her waist, smiling as she took his hand, looking up into his eyes, and following him in sync to the song that he'd set up for them, gliding across the opulent carpet, surrounded by the lotus pillars and open windows, the chandelier shining down on them like the sun in the heavens.

 _Ever just the same_

 _Ever a surprise_

 _Ever as before_

 _Ever just as sure_

 _As the sun will arise_

She thought she heard herself squealing to the high heavens when he picked her up and swirled her around before settling back into position.

 _Tale as old as time_

 _Tune as old as song_

 _Bittersweet and strange_

 _Finding you can change_

 _Learning you were wrong_

At first, Iris had been afraid that her feet would stumble from her dress skirt getting in the way, but the steps were executed to perfectly that her worries vanished altogether. Jonathan hadn't been much of a dancer, but he followed her lead just as fast as he'd learned in his field in his younger years.

 _Certain as the sun_

 _Rising in the east_

 _Tale as old as time_

 _Song as old as rhyme_

 _Beauty and the Beast_

"Come with me," he whispered once the music was ending, then took her by one hand and led her out through one of the doors that brought them out to the gardens. The sun was just vanishing below the horizon, and the night would have its turn. The flowers perfumed the air with their assorted aromas, and she could smell her own drifting into the air with it. Jonathan led her onto the back balcony, where she leaned back and placed her hands on the wrought iron railing overlooking the fountain and rose-lined terrace. This was exactly how she preferred her life with him, and he was the man she loved and wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

 _If only he would ask me_ , she thought with a twinge of sadness in her heart and gut. She looked down onto the floor, her mind blank of anymore thoughts.

And then his voice broke her out of her daze. "Iris?"

"Yes?"

"I love you. Ever since you were thirteen, I've been insanely in love it hurt so much when I held myself back just for you at the time." He was leaning forward so his forehead pressed against hers as his sparkling orbs bore deep into hers. His breath was warm against her glossed lips as he pressed his own tenderly against them.

"Tell me how much," she whispered back.

"More than we both know it," he answered softly, his breath a coolant in the night air. "I'm sorry you don't hear it all the time, nor do I hear it from you often, but we both know each other better than that." His arm had come around to hold her near enough to feel his body heat but not making direct contact. She felt something inside her tremble at his words, at the way he held her in this simple one-arm gesture.

"I love you, too, Jonathan."

His laugh was soft and almost matching the wind. "Say it again."

"I said I love you, Jonathan. You're my Scarecrow, my Master of Fear."

She felt his arm around her waist remove itself and go straight to his jacket pocket. Looking down, she saw him pull out a little twinkling object that could only resemble a star that came from a supernova. A black star surrounded by smaller ones in a dainty flower setting… _an engagement ring_. Her heart rate picked up as she recognized her grandmother's old ring. _It's…it's happening…it's happening…!_

"Iris, you are my Empress, my student…my one and _only_ …and you always will be no matter what. I always knew how much you admired me, respected me, and treated me like I was a human being more than anyone else ever did." He then dropped to his knee, still holding the ring out. "But there is still a certain monster out there trying to take you away from me…a monster who wrecked my life once, and now is back to do it again…but I won't let him triumph this time." She looked down and saw him slip off her mother's ring and slip the black diamond in its place. It glittered more beautifully than the lavish bling of Maria. "And I promise I will worship you and treat you like the queen that you are for the rest of our days…and I won't let the forceful hands of the world ensnare you from me again. So, Iris DeLaine…my beautiful, insane, fiery vixen…will you marry me and be my wife?"

 **The Renoma Gallery is a real French restaurant with the mentioned ambiance and cuisine that had to also come to Gotham. :) Gotham might be dreary, but it needs more lightening up; it's the little things that count the most.**

 **"Beauty and the Beast" is too wonderful a story to simply resist. :) The love confession stemmed from the grand finale of Descent into Darkness after a bloody love reunion between the Scarecrow and his Mistress of fear, his "insane, fiery vixen" the society tried to tear him from, did not say the three simple words that everyone else does - but we all know he does in his own way. :)**


	28. Double Trouble

**It should be obvious who will get the Empress' treatment, but not for a few chapters. ;) I know a lot of you missed the Empress at work, but with her Scarecrow beside her, she'll be back in your line of vision with a new victim.**

Twenty-Seven

Double Trouble

Jonathan couldn't stop smiling as he cleared the table for Iris while she went upstairs to change for the night. Iris loved him…she loved him, and she was going to be his wife and maybe the mother of his children. Or child, most likely; he preferred one being less to worry about, and knew Iris did, too. Both had good reasons for wanting one offspring, given their family histories. Despite the brutal environments of their upbringings, they found each other. They had been destined to be together right from the very beginning.

Iris DeLaine… _Iris Crane_. He smiled at her future name. Hearing her tell him she loved him marked her as his and only his. In his heart, the engagement was sincere and real until the one obstacle between them was gone for. No other man - not even Warner - would ever lay hands upon her now. They had the strength to take every last chain that monster and the demons of their pasts had tried to strangle them with…she had done the same in helping him get out of the asylum he once ran.

The room was getting hot for him, so he'd discarded his jacket and hung it on the coat rack in the kitchen. He was just finishing off with drying the dishes and putting them away when, out of the blue, the doorbell rang, making him jump and nearly drop one of the fine china plates. He was _so_ lucky he had a firm grip on it; Iris would have been furious if he'd dropped her good china. "I'll get it," he called up the stairs. Iris would have the bedroom door open, so it was possible she heard him. He proceeded to walk towards the door, wondering who the hell it could be at this hour.

Perhaps he should have looked through the peephole before he opened the door…because the second he opened the door and saw a number of four faces - one being the very one he did _not_ expect to see again until a certain day only days away - he was greeted with rough arms grabbing him from the doorway and a hand slapping over his mouth to muffle any shouts to Iris for help. He smelled chloroform that very instant, and panicked in spite of himself even as he struggled to wrestle out of the men's arms, but before he knew it, he lost unconsciousness and succumbed to a hazy stupor. His last thought was fearing what was going to happen to Iris…and that he should have stayed away to keep her safe after all when he had the chance.

~o~

She took one last look at herself in the bathroom mirror at the negligee she wore - a stretchy black chemise ending above her knees, the thin straps tied with blue ribbon, and the bust vivid blue and covered with black lace and a criss-cross black satin pattern similar to a corset on both breasts. Jonathan was sure to have his jaw dropped and drooling over her tonight; she was his fiancée now, and they would go public once Warner was done for.

 _Jonathan._

She turned her head for the opened bathroom door and saw that Jonathan wasn't waiting on the bed as he would. Frowning, she grabbed her robe and draped it over herself, tying the sash and leaving the room. "Jonathan?" she called over the railing overlooking all of the foyer.

No reply.

"Jonathan?" she tried again, worry coursing through her veins as she descended the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her, given it was easier without her heeled boots or pumps, and stopped abruptly when she saw that the front door was slightly ajar. Her heart hammered loudly in her chest. Jonathan wouldn't just leave the door open like that…would he? She crept forward as slowly as she would, wishing she had her pistol on her at the moment.

She didn't have time to scream when she touched the door - and it flew open and barged in the man she didn't want to see. She was slammed against the wall beside her, her mouth covered by _his_ hand to prevent her from screaming.

"I wouldn't try screaming if I were you," Warner hissed, his poisonous eyes boring into hers. She tried her hardest not to show her fear of him, but her trembling body made it difficult. What the hell was he doing here, and how did he get out of his coma so fast? Unless the shock had a shorter lasting effect than any of them thought.

"I wouldn't even try crying for you lover," he continued, and her eyes went wide. "Oh, yes, that's right. I know all about it now. And after I specifically made it clear that you never see him again now that we will be married soon…"

"What have you done with Jonathan?" she spat out once he removed his hand after deciding it was safe, but he kept her pinned against the wall of her own home.

He chuckled. "Oh, nothing that you should worry about… _yet_." Iris felt her blood run cold all at once. "And no, nothing of what you may be thinking. In fact, that'll have to wait until after the wedding when we get to _the night,_ " he told her with a malicious grin, "and he gets to watch while I have my way with you, then he'll have his chance. Not to mention, I _have_ missed watching him writhe and wriggle beneath me…"

"You sick old son of a bitch," Iris snarled at him as she lunged her head forward and slammed her head against his, making him stumble. She ignored the minor headache of her own as she continued. "That's why Jonathan ended up as he was before and after he was committed in his own asylum. You are one of the demons that destroyed his body and his mind…but you didn't crush his soul. He has one - and a heart - unlike you. And I'm one of the ones to see that."

He glared at her as he rubbed his forehead. "That little whore had it coming. He brought it on himself, selling himself off to me like a common prostitute in the street…"

"He worked hard as I did to get to where he was, and you didn't give him what he gave me just because you saw him as fulfillment to your sick fantasies!" Iris shouted at the top of her lungs. This only made the professor laugh again.

"Iris, you sound like that black sheep riddle-obsessed boy…Nygma. He wasn't wise enough to leave well enough alone."

Iris' temper boiled. "He was _defending_ Jonathan," she hissed quietly, knowing that shouting would only please him all the more.

"And he brought it on himself. Look where he ended up, on the same level as the brilliant, youngest graduate doctor ever. Too bad they were both troubled right from the start. Much like yourself, running that house of the high-risk crazies, caring for the mentally ill and sending them back on the streets to start fresh. I always thought you were better than he ever was…but your own childhood trauma has clearly made you as mentally unsound as he was."

"Don't talk about Jonathan that way." She back off to the side, her back still up against the wall, prepared to dash for the phone, but Warner followed her.

"I wouldn't think of trying to phone the police if I were you. Unless you want your lover to suffer."

"You never answered my question. _Where is he_?" Iris demanded.

"He's 'safely' tucked away, somewhere you won't find him yourself." He gave her a smile that made her want to claw his face off with her bare hands. "Oh, and aren't you wondering how I found out about your…secret trysts?" His eyes lowered to her exposed chest where he glimpsed the bust of her chemise.

Now her brain clicked. Why had she forgotten that? "Yes, I am, actually."

"Only a matter of…following you from work today as soon as I awoke and was released. After I awoke, I got a call from Dr. Long. He recently fired me from the university after one too many errors, said I'm setting a bad example for the board and students." She smiled to herself that he got what he deserved, and that he couldn't harm young Amber now, but that didn't stop the current crisis at hand. "Which means this: I'll have to move the wedding up to date."

The feeling of her lungs losing oxygen took over, and she felt herself slump to the ground, still staring up at him. "W-what? You moved the wedding up? To when?"

"This Thursday."

" _Three days_?!" Iris slumped forward, staring at the floor, wanting to die right here right now, but cruel fate had more in store for her and Jonathan, wherever he was. Except there was one place she could think of, but she needed the gang's help. She felt two rough hands grab her forearms and hoist her up so she was looking into Warner's eyes again.

"That's right, three days. But we'll have our engagement party in two days, at the Starlight Ballroom. Originally I thought of the Rose Café where we had our first date…which I recall you taking off while I was in the restroom for the whole night." His eyes twinkled. "Clever, but not unnoticed by me, whatever you did. Not that I care anymore, anyway. What I care about is that we proceed where we left off. I trust you've been handling the plans like I asked?" She nodded, not wanting to risk angering him. "Good. Whatever you haven't handled, we'll take care of starting tomorrow. In the meantime…" He released his hold on her, but this time she regained her footing and remained where she was standing.

"I suggest you watch out, because I have my eye on you every day now from tonight. If I see anything suspicious, then I'll have no choice but to use that to my advantage…much as I did to your Jonathan so he could get his degree sooner than average." She nearly wanted to puke at the thought of him using whatever he'd have against her and blackmail her into sleeping with him just as he did to Jonathan. She avoided looking at him as she heard his turn to leave the house, closing the door behind him. She dashed over and quickly locked it. Good thing the window curtains were closed because she looked over her shoulder to see Pamela and Harley now standing behind the railing over the second upstairs level. Harley was biting her lip in fear and cowering next to her girlfriend, who looked down with murder in her green eyes.

"Guys, I'm afraid," Iris managed to choke out, the emotion she longed studied with Jonathan finally released.

Pamela clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Oh, don't be, honey. Because I got more ideas on my plate now that I did before. This means war, and the old guy ain't going down without a fight."

~o~

"So you've been having carnal relations with my fiancée behind my back this whole time," Warner said, lounging into the room Jonathan had been locked in. "I might have known it."

His prison wasn't the basement - or even Warner's room - and had a bed and various other furniture and entertainment for his comfort, and a very small window that he could not even try to escape from. On the whole, his captivity wasn't brutal but was not without the knowing factor that the worse was to come. There was poor Iris, alone in their home and likely at mercy of this dangerous old beast in front of him. Jonathan looked up at him as he entered, but didn't move from the bed where he sat, upright and tense on the tranquil, warm tones of brown, green, and tan. "Yes, Professor, I have," he answered, proud and unashamed. "I had every right to remain with her, just as I have been long before you intruded our lives."

His former professor threw his head back and let out a gutteral laugh. "Didn't one of the Ten Commandments ever tell you 'Thou shalt not covet the man's wife'?"

"She's not your wife," Jonathan spat. "And I do not go by some seemingly nonexistent God's advice to live life."

"Oh, not yet, but she _will_ be." He dragged Jonathan to his feet and clutched him close - Jonathan angrily struggled with fiery hate, resulting in an almost feminine but still strong strike to the face. Warner released him and brought a hand to his cheek, glaring at him ferociously. "You don't want me anymore, I take it."

"I _never_ wanted your hideous swine of a body," Jonathan snarled. "Come to that, given the way the world works now, you would have ruined my future. I never wanted to succumb to your carnal desires; I _trusted_ you when you wanted to help me with my future…but you violated it. You _raped_ me. My body, mind, and soul. You brought out Scarecrow."

Warner laughed again, but with anger. "How dare you! Feisty as ever. Oh, well, perhaps you should have thought of it all earlier before you lost it all. Oh, well, don't fear, because I won't need your body, not for awhile now. But I'll have some use for you all the same when that day is over."

"You'll have me here for one week until the wedding day?" Jonathan laughed haughtily even though he imagined what would happen to Iris. "Until then, what will happen to me?"

"Oh, not for a week. Three days."

 _Three days?!_ The date had been moved up to three more days! He was _insane_ , completely _insane_. "Why the sudden change?" he dared to ask.

"Because your old boss, Long, fired me after too many trouble. From the phone call she left me, to no classes for a week, and now that trouble with the 'shocker stripper', as the Internet and everyone else in town who knows me speaking about it. He regretted to inform me that I was causing tension and unease amongst the staff members and fueling the imaginations of the students."

Him being fired was music to his ears. Two times fired in a decade, but there was also the possibility that… "So you've moved up the wedding date because you want to marry Iris for her money, and not just her body." His heart thumped louder and faster than on a monitor as the revelation revealed itself in his mind before he even spoke it aloud.

"That is correct. And once that happens, I _own_ not only everything she has, but also _her_. Nothing will stop her from leaving me. Unlike you. So, in the meantime…you will stay here until after the wedding, and the three of us will have some time alone on the wedding night."

It was only then did the door close that Jonathan felt the bile rise in his stomach, and he dashed for the trash can and released it all. God, his head pounded just thinking about what could happen on _that_ night: Warner taking Iris, then taking him…Iris and him forced to do it together in front of him…then the three of them taking turns in a threesome…

Everything in him hurt, especially thinking about that last one.

~o~

"How's the latest coming along, Eddie?" Drew walked into his office, smiling as he beheld the sight of his latest invention, a computer game system known as the _Riddle of the Minotaur_. "Minotaur, really? I never would have thought of you using one of the most ferocious characters from Greek lore as the main subject of a computer game?"

"Not _a_ game, Drew," Edward corrected with a proud grin. " _The_ game. We're going to make a killing with this. Imagine the profits we could make with this, all the millions the company could make with this. This is a game like no other in history."

His future cousin-in-law took one last look at the image on the screen, the title page that would end up being the cover of the game, of the young man with the sword facing the valley with a look of determination on his face - the valley crawling with beauty and flora and fauna…and the colossal head of the Minotaur himself fading beyond the horizon and among the darkening blue sky. "If I didn't know any better, Eddie, I'd say that you based this hero's face off of yourself," he said with a wry grin.

 _That's because it_ is _me_. Edward smirked back and opened his mouth to respond when his phone rang. Drew nodded in understanding. "I should let you take that and get back to work. And by the way…" He waved a finger to the game screen once he was at the door. "…that thing _is_ going to make us profit."

Edward nodded, feeling pride swell in him as he stared after the closed door and answered his phone at the same time. "Competitron, this is Edward."

 _"Eddie! Oh, thank God, is this a bad time?"_

He furrowed his brow. "Iris? No, of course not." He sat down in his desk chair. "Whatever's the problem?"

 _"It - It's Jonathan. He's…gone. He was taken from the house last night."_

Edward went rigid, standing straight up where he was. Jon…Jon was… _kidnapped_?! He was kidnapped from their home just last night! He felt like he was going to have a heart attack and die any minute - or rather, s _econds_. "He's been kidnapped! By who?"

 _"Do you really want to know?"_ was the response, and she absolutely sounded doubtful yet was going to say who the kidnapper was anyways. Before he could say of course he wanted to know because his best friend had been abducted from his own home just the previous night, she voiced the name they both loathed the most: _"It was none other than Warner."_

"WARNER!" His voice almost rose to an octave, but it was safe since he had no assistants around, and Drew was off elsewhere. How the hell did that bastard snap out of his comatose state - and most importantly, _how_ did he find out about Jonathan still living in DeLaine Manor? "How the hell did he wake up so soon, and how did he find you guys?"

She let it all out in one breath. _"He awoke just like that as far as I know, and he followed me from work after the hospital let him go. He took Jonathan when I wasn't looking, but he didn't say where he had him, except I_ know _where he is. And he's moved up the wedding to two more days. It was three, beginning last night."_

"Three days!" The phone nearly slipped through his slackened fingers, but he was so lucky he managed to keep his hold on it. "Why the hell is he so desperate now?"

 _"Dr. Long fired him from university, so how he's ready to move it all up. I think you know where I'm going from here,"_ she stated, obviously. Unfortunately, she was right about him already knowing.

As much as he hated it, he stated it anyways. "He's marrying you for your money, and because he can't wait to get his hands on you." It soon dawned on him that Warner was also intending to have Jonathan again as his sex toy again… He tried not to think too much about the possibilities that he had fantasies about using the two in a threesome with him.

 _"And he said he was watching me now that he doesn't work anymore. Which means Red and Harley are still with me, and I'm afraid he'll blackmail me if he finds out…"_

"No, he won't," Edward interrupted gently, an idea formulating in his mind. "Where are you now? Are you at work?"

 _"Yes, and Joan is with me right now."_

"Alright, call Pamela and Harley, and if they are still there, tell them to get out of the house now, and meet me at our place by the end of the day. Whatever they can do, make sure they stay out of the public's eye." He should've called himself an idiot for saying that; of course those vixens had their ways of making themselves unrecognizable.

Jonathan was once again in Warner's hands. And the wedding had been moved up to two days' time. God, could the situation get any worse?

~o~

 _"Dr. DeLaine, your fiancée is here. He's looking for you."_

"Thanks, Barb," Iris said with a slight groan, glancing up at Joan. "My God, I wonder what he wants. There are so many things I can think of right now." She jerked her head roughly in the direction of the office door as soon as she heard that knock. "Damn, he's here already, and I need to call Pamela to tell her and Harley to get out of the house," she whispered harshly.

Joan nodded and pulled out her phone. "I can leave them a text." There was another knock, and that just about pushed Iris' buttons.

"Enter!"

"I was beginning to think that you were ignoring me," Warner noted as he walked into the office, a brown package tucked under his arm. "Since I have no more classes to teach…" he said with a knowing fire in his eyes on her, making her mentally cringe. "…I had time to buy my bride-to-be something to wear for our engagement party tomorrow night."

Iris saw Joan flinch from the corner of her eye. She scoffed indignantly. "Oh, first you pick out my dress for our date at the Rose Café, now you pick out my dress for our engagement party. I really can pick my own clothes out."

Warner frowned at her. "I would watch my tongue if I were you, missy." She hissed to herself; that was a name used to call a little misbehaving girl. "So," he said, changing his voice to a false pretense of kindness, "be a doll and take a look at what I brought you?"

Iris tried to avoid the topic as best as she could. "I would, but I have a patient to visit in the medical ward in ten minutes." But Warner wasn't willing to let her pass until he got what he wanted.

"It'll only take a second. No harm ever came from that." Sighing heavily, Iris tore open the box as fast as she could and gaped in shock at what she saw.

"Oh, no way in hell. This is like ten times worse than the red dress." She picked up the dress by the shoulders, the silver jewelry pieces sliding down and hitting the box's interior wall with a soft _clink_ , so she could see the details of the black velvet striping over the rich iris blue brocade design, as well as the antique buttons and cross-laced front. Joan regarded it with a raised eyebrow of distaste.

"Why don't you try it on?" Warner suggested, nodding for the door to her private bathroom.

He was deliberately asking - no, _insisting_ \- she try on this scandalous dress in her own office bathroom, and the way he said it was a warning that it wasn't a request. She said nothing, simply pulled the dress out, ignoring the jewelry, and headed for her bathroom to change out of her all-black-velvet uniform - ruched top and slim pants, as well as her patent pumps - and into the scandalous dress.

Actually, the moment she slipped on the garment and looked herself over in the mirror, she saw that there was an air of the sorceress in its formal hues and lines. She stepped out of the bathroom unwillingly, wishing that Jonathan saw her in this as he did the night she wore the red sparkle one. Warner looked her over with that look she despised so much, Joan glaring at him when he paid her no mind but gave Iris a little smile of appreciation. "Very lovely. I can't wait to see you on the night of the party."

Iris opened her mouth to speak, but there was a knock on her door. It was Carl. The first thing he noticed was Iris in the dress, giving her a confused look at seeing the head doctor in such a formal dress at this time, then changed his expression to hatred when he saw the man he hated as much as Iris and everyone else did. "You're the least person I expected to see," he said coolly. "Because one of our patients, Mr. Dean, is anxious for his favorite caregiver to see him."

Warner nodded. "I apologize, Mr. Carl. I was just giving Miss DeLaine her dress for our engagement party for tomorrow night." He winked at Iris. "Until tomorrow, my dear."

"It's _doctor_ to you, _Mr._ Warner," Joan returned with a snarl. "Oh, Iris, I should say that you look very beautiful right now. Except for the occasion," she added uneasily, just as Warner was leaving them behind.

"Same here," Iris agreed, walking back into the bathroom to change. She came out less than three minutes later with the dress neatly folded, and placed it back into the box. Part of her wanted to throw this dreadful thing away, but she knew what would happen if she did that. Another part of her wondered how Jonathan was doing right now at this time.

~o~

What had he done? Perhaps he should have obeyed and left Iris alone when he had the chance, to protect both of them when he should have…

 _No._

No, he decided, he had done the right thing. He loved Iris, his dark-haired vixen, with every fiber of his being, so Warner had a death wish to insinuate something like that. He had no right or willpower to separate them. But this man had done them both a fresh wrong now than he'd done to Jonathan years ago - he'd long ago crushed down the memories of that large, sweaty body oppressing him and all. But now he was on the verge of taking away the only woman he'd ever loved from him. Jonathan shivered, settling on drawing himself into deeper hatred, nibbling his thumbnail. The afternoon was drawing to an end, and Warner would be home soon to force him out of his room to have dinner with him now that he no longer had a job…

Oh, shit, speaking of which, he wondered how the library was doing without him. Well, on second thought, he wasn't at risk of being fired given he ran the place. That is if he was ever going to find a way out of here soon.

The doorknob was suddenly turning, and the door opening, and he back against the wall where the bed was resting. Warner had returned sooner than he'd hoped. When the door finally opened, there stood a familiar sexy redhead in a tight green floral dress and suede boots accompanied by an adorable face with blonde hair and a red daisy tee saying _Life is good_ tucked into white shorts. Jonathan, though shocked as he was, was relieved and delighted all the same that his unexpected rescuers were here at last. "Oh, Harley! Pamela! You girls came!" He bolted off the bed and surged forward to hug the harlequin girl, but pulling her girlfriend in with a free arm. He was on the verge of sobbing with relief. Pamela seemed to sense his distress and placed a hand on his back to rub it in circles.

"Hey, hey now, Jonny, don't stress. The old codger isn't even on his way home anytime soon yet, which gave us time to bust you out before Iris' hours were up."

"Iris!" At the mention of his new fiancée, he looked up from wiping his wet and perhaps now-reddened eyes with the sleeve of his new, clean denim shirt and then rolling it and the other up to his elbows. "Is she -?"

"Yes, she's fine. Except we've been keeping tabs on the old windbag all day." Pamela held up her right hand and counted off her fingers for the events of the day. "First, he leaves his house to do some shopping and picked out a dress for her for their engagement party tomorrow night…" Jonathan groaned. He wanted so badly to crash that party with the help of his friends and end it all, but then Warner would have reported him for vandalism. Pamela was still speaking even when they were leaving the house for the van parked across the street. "Second, he visits her at the hospital and makes her try on that dress he buys her -"

"Wait, wait, what?!" Jonathan stopped where he was and whipped his head up. "She changed in front of him?!"

The plant vixen held up both her hands in an effort to calm him down. "No, she changed in her private bathroom and _then_ came out in it, nothing more until Dr. Leland showed up." She whistled. "Oh, does she _hate_ him as much as we do. Much worse than everyone hated you when you still ran the nuthouse." Jonathan glared at her, and she quickly changed the topic. "So, then Joan called us and alerted us about the situation, saying where you might be given your lady knew where you'd be. And here we are," she finished by the time they were settled in the white van. "We even had time to snoop Warner's house for what Nygma was talking about the night Blue fired the bullet up his ass."

Jonathan laughed at the memory, and then he heard what had been said about what Edward had said about finding concrete evidence… "What did you guys find?" he asked, buckling himself in right beside Harley, who sat in the middle of them both, Pamela in the driver's seat and bringing them out and away from the scene as fast as she could while keeping to the limit.

The redhead pursed her plump lips together in a tight line, while Harley let out a sigh of anxiety. Immediately Jonathan knew that what they found he was not going to like. Pamela kept her hands on the wheel as she drove them from Warner's neighborhood. "You ain't gonna like this, Jonny," Harley said, her voice on the verge of cracking as she reached for Pamela's right coat pocket facing her, pulling out something that looked like an album book. The cover was thick red leather, and it was filled thickly with pages. "There are eight others in there…and you," she finished with a quivering lip, looking as though she was going to throw up at any minute. With shaky fingers, Jonathan opened up the book and just about retched at what he saw.

He _wasn't_ the first that Warner sexually abused…nor was he the last.

The others before him were in the same situations that he had been - but right now he was too focused on the pictures that showed him in the ways that he'd been forced to satisfy the monstrous professor's beastly appetites…everything from his hands bound behind him while he bent over the armrest of the couch, ass in the air, to his nude body spread eagle fashion on the bed, to graphic photographs of his shaved pubic region…until finally his stomach and mind couldn't take it anymore and slammed the book shut, breath hyperventilating and his mind racing.

How could this man violate the lives of nine people - including himself - and get away with it? Well, the only answer he had was that they had their evidence to put him in jail for the rest of his life. Not that he had much longer to live anyways. He didn't know how long he'd been in shaking mode and staring ahead at the road until he felt a hand on his arm, and jumped. "Jonny?" Harley asked tentatively. "Are ya okay?"

"I will be once I know he's gone for good," Jonathan answered hotly. "So, ladies, what's the next plan?"

~o~

"You've got to be kidding me," Jon hissed under his breath as he, Edward, Jervis, and Pamela hid in the dense of trees that shielded them from the view of the three old guys on the shore of the lake. Queen's Lake was miles away from Gotham City, between Iris' home and her grandmother's estate left to Alice, and this was the good way to execute the next plan in their grand scheme. Today was the day of the engagement party, but it was only an hour away, which meant that whatever Harley planned to do - and he hoped it was cutting the rented jet skis free, as she'd told Edward - would result in Warner unable to attend the party and let Iris get away unscathed throughout the whole event. Good thing Drew gave Edward the day off with the excuse that Joan needed his help with her pregnancy, if he even fell for it. Edward hated lying to his future cousin-in-law, but this was bigger than the latest creation right now. Even Joan had been supportive enough to lie for him.

And he could not stop thinking about what Ivy and Harley found at Warner's house.

Seeing those hideous, torturing photographs of graphic positions of Jon and eight other young adults who suffered at the hands of an old predator who used their bright futures to his advantage to savor their bodies and tear apart their lives. And seeing said predator sitting on the beach shore and shacking with a couple other old codgers, drinking beer - and probably making offensive jokes about Iris' insecurities, maybe about other young adults they had their eyes on, made him want to load his grandfather's shotgun at the family estate and pull the trigger on each and every one of them.

"Guys, I don't feel comfortable here," Jon complained. "I really don't think this is necessary right now. Can we just head back?"

Now that he said that, Edward had the feeling that he really needed to get back to Joan, but Pamela was there before him. "Hold on, Jonathan," she said, patting his back. "Let Harley do her thing."

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of," Jon grumbled. "I just hope she doesn't do anything crazier than she told us." For a moment, Edward agreed with him, but they all knew the harlequin would be as reckless as the Joker was.

And Pamela was sticking up for her as she always would. "Don't you worry, boys. All she's going to do is tell them off."

Okay, _now_ Edward realized that he should never have trusted the harlequin with this. Once again, reckless, but he said it anyway. "I thought she was going to cut their jet skis free."

Jervis jerked his head up at them, confusion written all over his face. "What happened to taking a leak in their suntan lotion?"

Okay, that was just plain disgusting, even for poor Jervis to handle, Edward knowing how fainthearted the other man was. "Wait," Jon piped up, just as baffled as he was, "she told me she was going to steal their beer."

It soon dawned on all of them that Harley Quinn planned something more extreme than they originally thought. Jon sighed heavily. "Harley," was all he muttered.

Edward shook his head and looked back up ahead to watch the three old men talk and joke about whatever it was that old windbags like themselves do every day. And that was when he saw the familiar red-clad figure silently creeping up to where their beer cooler was resting only some feet away from them, and their backs turned. "Oh, there she is."

As they all watched, Harley gave the trio a sneaky smirk, and then winked at her friends in the trees as she opened the lid of the beer cooler. Shit, looked like she was doing what she told Jon all along: stealing the beer. "All right, she's taking the beer," Jon whispered, then raised his volume only a little bit so that Harley could hear, but not the fools ahead of them. "Okay, hurry up, Harley. Come on."

Unfortunately, Harley ended up doing more than taking the beer.

"What's she doing?" Jon asked in disbelief. Even Edward couldn't put _that_ into words, except for the fact that Harley reached into her skirt and pulled it up from the bottom - but not enough to show what he didn't want to see - and withdrew something from her underwear. _A bomb._ It wasn't large, but upon detonated, it would explode the contents and grab enough attention.

"Oh, Harley," Pamela moaned as she leaned into Edward's shoulder to hide her face from what her girlfriend did instead of telling the guys off like she'd promised her. Same here with what she'd told Edward, Jon, and Jervis.

Once it was over, she gave a big grin first at the targets and then at Edward and the others.

"About time," Edward grumbled. He was about to hiss at the blonde to hurry up when the latter was signaling for him and the others to retreat to the van that was parked a few feet away from where they were now. But Edward stopped where he was, just around the van's corner, to see Harley now where the group had been, facing the site, where Warner was leaving his place beside his friends and walking for the cooler for a beer for either himself or all three. Good thing Edward had a view past Harley's shoulder to see what was happening. The moment Warner opened the cooler - the area was rocked with the minor impact that Harley's bomb went off.

The man was sent flying backwards onto his backside, staring at the flame and smoke in shock, his friends turning and joining him. From the way his mouth moved, he said, "What the -?"

"Hey, dirt head!" Harley shouted, drawing his attention at once, Edward taking this as his cue to rush into the van with Jon, Pamela, and Jervis, and Harley followed not too late after, quickly starting the engine and ramming them forward with great speed.

"HARLEY!" Jon and Edward yelled, clinging to each other with desperation, Pamela hollering at the top of her lungs at the same time. Jervis, however, sat where he was, frozen in shock. Harley was cackling all the while, even when the van suddenly jerked violently as though being pulled backwards, but it kept moving. "Harley, what the hell?!" Edward shouted angrily. "What the hell did you do this time?"

"Besides dropping a bomb in the beer cooler?" She shrugged casually. "I roped their jet skis to the van, dragged them, and crashed them into the trees."

"You did _WHAT?!_ " Jon exclaimed, eyes wide to the point of saucers. "What happened to just stealing their beer?"

"And cutting their jet skis free?" Edward agreed.

"Taking a leak in their suntan lotion?" Jervis unwillingly added.

"That's right, Harl," Ivy put in, just as mad as they all were. "You are worse than your puddin' when you say you were of your word."

"Oh, I am, Red," Harley cooed to her, then grinned at everyone's disgusted faces. "But you gotta admit it," she added cheerfully as she drove them home "safe and sound", "that was so much better. Now they have hours to walk home - or maybe trouble calling for help due to bad service or no one available - and lots of damage to pay for." She laughed high to the heavens all the rest of the way back.

~o~

Life was insane on so many levels, not that she hadn't known or considered it before. No further words were needed for that. Iris looked around and gave a sniff at the Starlight Ballroom, under the soaring arched ceiling and chandelier, giving her the feel of being in the ballroom of _Beauty and the Beast_ but without her prince, who was currently staying at Alice and Jervis' estate safe and sound. Her heart pounded with relief and swelled with the thought that Warner had not touched him as she feared he would. But that did not stop the fact that he would soon show up anytime now. Here she also was in the velvet-and-brocade sorceress' dress, with her hair up in a twisted bun behind the top of her head, studded around with rhinestone hairpins. Earrings in X's and dangling with silver hung her ears, and a bracelet in a swirly design and accented with stones to match the dress cuffed her left wrist.

"How obnoxious," Alice told her, standing next to her in a one-shouldered Chinese ink satin dress in colors of red, black and white with her hair in long, cascading curls with a champagne flute in hand. Iris eyed that and then looked down to her sister's abdomen.

"Alice, you can't drink, remember?" she reminded her. Alice had recently found out that she was pregnant, but she was actually a couple weeks along and had only found out the previous day. She only laughed airily and took a small sip.

"The doctor said I could have just one glass per occasion, just nothing margarita-related, or rum, or beer, or anything related." She then looked around. "So, the man of the hour hasn't showed up?"

"Not yet." Iris shook her head. "I have the feeling he's passed out drunk from hanging with his friends before coming here. Got too carried away, you know?" She laughed at her own joke, sharing it with Alice before they were approached by a waitress.

"Excuse me, Doctor, but there's a phone call for you. Your fiancée."

"Well, what do you know?" Alice joked, following her into the lobby to where the pay phones were located. Iris picked up the one that had been pointed out to her.

"Let me guess, you're going to be late and leave me alone with our guests," Iris said, not wanting to give him the chance to give a greeting.

 _"More than that, I'm afraid, my dear. My friends and I were at the lake spending some time before I came."_ He muttered something under his breath that she couldn't make out, and she winked to Alice. _"Let's just say that, for short, some lunatic woman in red tied our jet skis to her van and dragged them into the trees, not long before she ruined our beer cooler with a bomb explosion."_

Alice had been leaning in to listen, and both of them knew exactly what he was talking about, and _who_ he was talking about, and she was so close to screaming a laugh before Iris slapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear about that. So, does that mean you'll be a lot late than I thought?"

He sounded disappointed when he responded. _"I'm afraid it's more than that. I won't be able to attend at all. We had bad phone service, had to walk all the way out back into the city and picked up like hitchhikers. Now I'm too exhausted to come. You'll have to entertain our guests on your own."_

Perfect. No having to deal with him tonight then. She had other ideas of how to handle the night after this event, then. She smirked at Alice when she spoke. "Promise me you'll make it up to me when we marry tomorrow?" _Which isn't going to actually happen._

 _"Oh, you know I will, dear Iris. I especially can't wait to make tomorrow night_ beautiful _for my little bride."_ Her stomach churned at that, and she quickly hung up.

"What are you going to do now?" Alice asked nervously.

Iris smiled. "Whatever it is we do best."

 **Chapter longer than normal, but it was worth it. XD I loved that one scene in "American Reunion" with the lake and the cooler - this time with a bomb - as well as the jet skis tied to the van and rammed into the trees, etc.**

 **I thought it appros to also bring in Eddie's prized game from the episode of BTAS "If You're So Smart, Why Aren't You Rich?" His debut and descent into being the Riddler.**

 **We got a couple more chapters left and then this is drawn to a close. But overall, this is one of the best pieces I've ever done and could not have done this without Vytina's help. :D**


	29. Conquering Heroes

**Now comes what you all have been waiting for. Enjoy!**

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Conquering Heroes

"My God," Jim Gordon choked, shaking his head in utter horror at the album book presented to him. He looked up from where he currently was to Jonathan and Edward. Jonathan gulped nervously in his throat. He was starting to wonder if going to the man who'd been the one to arrest him in his own asylum was a good idea after all, because he still had hard feelings for that. Some things were just hard to let go. But he felt a little better now that Farnsworth was with them, and safe to say he wasn't happy, either. His face was a mask of pure disgust and rage after seeing the whole book.

"How did you two get your hands on this?" Gordon asked.

Edward shrugged. "Let's just say, Commissioner, that Warner and the three of us have a bad past history going all the way back to Gotham State over a decade ago, before we were graduating. I met Jon there," he said with a nod to his friend. "Warner was our teacher, but I knew from the start that the guy was a monster, and a pig. He was inappropriately touching Jon and tried to come onto him, so I did the one thing I could do: defend my friend. You see…" He leaned in closer in his chair.

"Jon's been through a lot before college, so have I, and Warner had his sick eyes on him." Eyes turned on Farnsworth as he briefly sucked in a sharp breath. "Just because Jon was much better than Warner ever was."

"Forgive me for interrupting," Farnsworth spoke up, "but I called GSU regarding this situation, and they filled me in. There was a report on a case a few years before these two arrived as freshmen students, on the claim that Victor Warner was sexually harassing a young male student, but there was no proof of any kind."

Gordon looked at all three men with the same shocked expression on his face. Jonathan knew what he was thinking. How could a man like Victor Warner get away with the sexual abuse of Jonathan and the eight other young adults in the book - just so he could repeatedly satisfy himself with the memories and every part of them - and let the victims live on with endless suffering? "So, I take it, Mr. Crane, that this man was the reason you ended up being…?" He let the sentence hang.

"Yes," Jonathan answered firmly. "And I'm telling you now because I still have pride. I could have told anyone that he tempted me to getting my PhD sooner than desired, but I had no evidence, and he would have ruined my chances. I had no backup if that happened. And I never would have gotten the woman I love."

"Who by the way is on her way to get married to this son of a bitch at this very moment," Farnsworth said angrily, slamming his fist on the armrest of his chair. "Commissioner, this man loves her but that old psycho has had her in his grasp ever since the death of her grandmother, but I suggest we put him away for good this time."

"That's exactly what we're going to do," Gordon answered, standing and heading for the door. "I'll get a unit over to DeLaine Manor and issue a warrant for his arrest right now."

"See, Jon?" Edward nudged him in the side with a grin. "He's finally getting his just desserts."

Jonathan smiled in return. "I've thanked you for everything at State, my friend…" He placed his hand on Eddie's. "…so there's no exception for now."

~o~

"Iris?"

"What?" she answered, staring blankly at her reflection in the grand mirror of the room that was once her mother's private studio, now shaped into her wedding changing room, her hands folded silently in her lap as she beheld the sight of the woman in the billowing folds of lace and crystals. Alice knelt down beside her, her strapless, shimmering champagne dress.

"Iris, I received a message from Edward. He and Jonathan are on their way here, with Commissioner Gordon and a unit on the way. With a warrant for Warner's arrest."

"What?" Iris jerked her head up at the news. "For real?"

"For real," Alice whispered, taking her hand into her own. "This will all be over soon. He'll be in jail until he dies, and we'll all live happily ever after."

It wasn't long until Joan walked into the room. "Sorry ladies, but we have to finish getting you ready," she said to Iris, smiling herself as if having heard what they were talking about. "If I may ask, Iris," she said as she helped do the hair, "what do you intend to do with all of this after he's arrested?"

"I've been considering giving this dress away for girls who long to be showstoppers in their weddings, as Mother had been…" Iris replied, reconsidering. "…but I have a better use of it for Jonathan and myself."

"But you said this wasn't you," Alice pointed out as she got the jewelry assembled.

"True, but it could use remodeling."

Once they were done with getting her prepared, she stood on the circular lift Maria once stood on many times before. If she were another, weaker person, she would have called herself broken, except she was _far_ from helpless. The gown complemented her torso and translated traditional into a more effortless way, but the way it was all-white and clinging too much in the traditional sense wasn't her at all. Her hair had been roped behind her head and accented with realistic-looking white lotuses; the cathedral veil attached beneath the flowers on both sides of her hair was long and single-layered with scalloped edges. Her face was decorated with blue _udju_ eye makeup and black liner and mascara that the female wearers treasured as a release of love and happiness…but not here. Her ears, forehead, neck and right wrist were draped with the same pearls and jewels on her gown in traditional Egyptian royalty. She carried a bouquet of white roses, blue forget-me-nots, and hydrangeas. This was not her…this was her mother's image, not hers…not the one that Jonathan would have wanted to see for their own wedding…

And Jonathan was on his way to her rescue. She was so in love with him for that - for many things - that it took every ounce of her sound of mind away.

Before she knew what was happening, she was led out of the dressing room, Farnsworth having arrived not too long ago and offered to walk her down the aisle as there was no actual father figure in her life other than him to do this honor. When she married Jonathan, she wanted him to do the same for her. Along the way, she glimpsed the reception in the dining room, where she saw the table removed for the day and replaced with an extended one for the guests, running with candles glowing in frosted cups and illuminating the six-feet-tall palm tree figures that also lined up like soldiers in the ranks, surrounded with blue, white, gold and orange flowers at the bases. The cake was there, too, in all its majesty. It had taken the bakers two days to create that masterpiece, resting on a royal blue "satin pillow" in the appearance of a golden temple too complex and perfect for words, accented with the blues of the lapis lazuli that Egyptian rulers and nobility would wear in ancient times. She, Farnsworth, and the bridesmaids - Joan, Alice, and a few other girls in the same dress - made their way to the ballroom, which had been set up in a day's time to look presentable for the occasion.

The far end from the entrance, where the ceremony would take place, was set up like the entrance of an Egyptian palace, with the pillars supporting a rooftop of stone, with two actual statues of jackals on either side - like this were her funeral and not her wedding, given Anubis was the god of the dead. There stood Warner on the altar, speaking a few words to the priest, no doubt telling him to skip the part "if there's any reason why these two should not be wed…" Well, Iris was going to let him think again.

And where was Jonathan?

After the bridesmaids took their places at the altar and waited for the bride herself to walk down herself. Iris nearly stumbled over herself - she really hated the heels that were also her mothers, being higher than she was used to - in those three-and-a-half-inch-high pumps of champagne gold silk studded all over in gold crystals, but lucky that Farnsworth supported her and guided her down the aisle easier. All eyes were on her, praising her with their expressions and smiles, but she only managed a forced smile while keeping her eyes on the altar, not making direct contact with the man she hated most besides her dead parents and Jonathan's own deceased grandmother.

Her luck changed when there were gasps of surprise and outrage, but it was not all on her. She stopped and turned along with Farnsworth to see the two men of her life standing there in the doorway. Glancing back, she saw Warner less than pleased - obviously - at seeing the man he'd locked up but had been looking for ever since discovering he'd gone missing. And then he saw the one who'd challenged him ages ago, who'd he succeeded in blackmailing so he could finally get the subject of his fantasies. "Edward."

"Jonathan!" Iris cried out, officially letting her relief and happiness pour out to the guests in the room, and to the man they'd been working so hard to rid their lives of.

She noticed how handsome he looked in his denim shirt and khaki pants, his hair slightly ruffled, and how his perfect face was full of determination. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said to the baffled - some enraged - witnesses, "I apologize for interrupting this _beautiful_ ceremony -" Sarcasm laced that word "beautiful", before his tone changed to pure hero mode. "- but there is _no way in hell_ that I'm letting the only woman I ever loved marry that piece of shit."

Shocked gasps rose from the audience, and the guests turned to each other to speak amongst themselves. Iris smirked first at Jonathan, then at Farnsworth, who gave her a crooked grin right back. They both turned their heads at Warner's voice. "You two fools have lots of nerve to interrupt my wedding."

Jonathan scoffed and threw his head back a little. "For reasons, _Professor_ ," he drawled. "Because it's a good thing we got here just in time, and it won't be long before Commissioner Gordon and his men break in after us and take you away in handcuffs." The mention of Jim Gordon, one of her closest friends and one of the last good cops she'd ever known, sent Iris abuzz with questions on her mind. How did they get him involved in this? Unless they presented him with that album book filled with the most horrific of secrets… _Jonathan found the courage to reveal his darkest trauma._ Part of her was shocked, but another was extremely proud of him. How else would they have gotten rid of him if there hadn't been proof all along?

Warner looked like he was struggling for the right words to respond, before his face became an angry mask. "What lies have you told that crooked cop department, you little man-whore?" More gasps sounded, but Iris snapped. She hissed angrily at him and unleashed the torrent from her lips.

"Don't you _dare_ talk about my fiancée that way."

All heads were back on her now. But she wasn't ashamed, and the words were already spoken. Farnsworth looked at her with an almost fatherly look, Alice and Joan cracking their own at her and then sticking their tongues at Warner, but he ignored them and instead focused his attention on his "bride" with that same expression.

"You choose to be the whore to a monster than the wife of a professor?!"

" _Ex_ -professor," Iris returned hotly, her pride swelling as she was finally opening up in front of all her friends and colleagues in the room. "And Jonathan is no monster. Everyone who isn't in this room branded him that way because they don't understand him like I do, like everyone else in here does. Especially you. He was called an object much like you treated him as a thing to your twisted pleasures. But I'll tell you straight out that my Jonathan is not a beast as you are. He's a man, more of a man than _you_ or any of the other men in my life - my late father, Dr. Long - ever will be. He treated me like a person and helped me succeed in my field without subjecting me to the treatment you did to him - he actually _loved_ me as much as he does today." She turned her attention back to Jonathan, smiling at him then and giving him a smile through her now-running, black-streaked face from mascara and eyeliner. He looked her on in return with the emotions of love and unbridled devotion in his eyes. She lifted her chin back at Warner, reaching to tug off the bling-of-a-ring that had been her mother's and throwing it at him with all her might, feeling the heavy burden lifted off her hand forever. She heard it clutter somewhere on the altar, not that she cared where.

"So yes, I'd rather be his wife than yours."

"And I'll be glad to take her as so," Jonathan spoke up, stepping forward and stopping until he was right in front of her, taking her arm and turning her away from the monster at the altar. He looked past her shoulder, though, as he spoke. "I suppose you are all wondering what he did to me that's given me a reason to go to Commissioner Gordon and issue this man's arrest." Everyone responded with nods and buzzes of words altogether that made it difficult to discern what they were all saying, but it was all agreement. "Years ago when I was still a student of psychology at Gotham State University, much like my Iris was under my tutelage, I had that vulgar old man right there…" He nodded at the fuming demon from his past. "…as my professor. And my good friend Edward Nygma was in the same class as me, as well as my roommate, and I was aware as much as he was to the fact that that creepy old man was harassing me and intended to do more than just help me excel in my field of choice. You see, I grew up in unbearable circumstances, having born out of wedlock, my father abandoning me before I was born and my mother leaving me with my grandmother, who cursed me for being born and even locked me in a dilapidated church full of crows. When she died of a heart attack shortly before I graduated high school, I was happy to finally move on with my life. And I was happy that I met Eddie, even though I could handle myself. But then he finally found it to extremely defend me against Warner there, but that didn't stop anything.

"You see, he always sought to get me under his oppression in late hours at his house. Used my dreams of being a psychologist after everything I went through growing up, and that includes forcing me to sleep with him if I wanted to achieve that goal…and forcing me to suck him off under his classroom desk with my clothes off during office hours."

Shrieks from female guests erupted, as did horrified gasps and disgusted expressions as the guests turned to look at each other after taking in the terrible details. Iris turned around to see that Warner was positively on the verge of storming over and blowing the hell out of him, but not on her watch. No one laid a hand on her Jonathan as long as she had anything to say about it. "I know I have no one to blame myself for what happened to the Narrows three years ago, but he _and_ my grandmother both ruined my life. Had I lived differently, I would have been just as wonderful as my Iris beside me."

Farnsworth took his cue. "That's right, Warner. And everyone in this room," he announced, "this man was also involved with Sylvia DeLaine, this young lady's grandmother who passed away not too long ago, years ago before she married her husband, Andrey, but he was a suspected sex offender, except it was never proven. Now we have enough evidence given to the police department and a powerful case now."

"He has that right." Iris gasped as she turned to the doorway where none other than Jim Gordon appeared, accompanied by a handful of his trusted officers, three of which stormed down the aisle and past the couple to where their enemy stood. Warner began to scream and protest as he was handed and cuffed.

"Victor Warner, we have a warrant for your arrest, and you have a right to remain silent," one of the cops said, roughly pushing him forward. "Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford one, an attorney will be provided for you."

"Looks like Jon finally gets justice for the wrong you did to him. To the _both_ of us," Edward sneered as Warner passed by them. Warner snarled back at him, but was jerked forward and out of the manor, never to be seen again. At least until court day, for they were sure to have to testify. "Looks like the wedding's off, Jon."

Jonathan laughed and slapped his arm playfully. "Thanks to you, too, my man." He turned back to Iris and looked down at her lovingly. She melted under the loving gaze of his crystal blues. They shared no spoken words as to what had happened, none that were necessary but the silence that said it all: they were free to be together now. The road to true love had many obstacles, but no ends.

Only beginnings.

~o~

The trial came and went after a couple weeks, and it was successful. Iris had attended to take a stand in the witness box, providing the court with the details - leaving out Harley and her insane plans - and then Jonathan and Eddie speaking up about the incidents at GSU over a decade ago, and then the album book presented to the court as proof that Victor Warner was a sex offender. Overwhelmed by the shocking display of evidence, but instead of being sent to Blackgate Prison, he was sent to Arkham Asylum in the hopes of rehabilitating.

This shocked Jonathan all to his core. Warner was being sent to the very asylum Iris was running instead of serving a life sentence in Blackgate. This was unfair even to him, even though he was being punished for abusing nine young adults in the past. He stood outside the court door, waiting for Iris to leave after speaking to the judge. While he did so, he watched as the large figure was led out of the courtroom in a vulgar orange jumpsuit - as he'd worn so long ago - with his wrists cuffed in front of him. Now he knew what it felt like to be degraded and lowered to the level of scum. He avoided Jonathan's sneer, simply keeping his eyes straight ahead. This man who cruelly and deceitfully taken his virginity and blemished his dignity would get what was coming to him, just as Iris had promised him if he got something other than jail time.

Now she departed from the courtroom, trailing behind the orange-suited prisoner in a teal silk blouse with an opened neck and the sleeves to her elbows, hair in her favorite bun, under a black vest and her slim black pants under heeled boots. When she reached up to rub her eyes as if to ward off an approaching migraine from the stress of the court case, he glimpsed the black diamond lotus ring on her finger…and smiled. She would be his wife in less than four months, just before her birthday, in fact.

Also, there had been something he noticed in her change of mood and behavior. Lately, she'd be sick in the mornings and craving for anything that was pizza rolls - the cheese kind - to White Castle to eggs on toast covered with syrup, paired with pomegranates and apples. Old habits from your days as doctor died hard, so it wasn't hard for Jonathan to discern what was wrong with his beloved…and it both scared and exhilarated him at the same time. But knowing her, she would tell him on her own time soon.

He took her hand and pulled her off to the side. "So, what do you have in mind, my love?" he asked, brushing his lips across her forehead. "How are we going to get him out of Arkham undetected?"

She chuckled then. "Oh, I won't break him out. I got a plan for Harley to cause a wreck with the transportation, and then when the cops come to the scene…they won't find Warner's body anywhere."

~o~

The feeling was exquisite. Seeing Warner bound unconscious to the chair with the device - namely mechanical arm and leg restraints that had been taken from one of the storage closets that the previous owners left intact before abandoning the place altogether - was a sight to behold. The restraints held his ankles to the bottoms of the front legs…but the wrist ones were another story in the fashion they pinned his hands down. They each had a nail that drove through flesh, bone, and tendon until it pierced the wood of the armrest.

The location she and Jonathan brought the prisoner to was the abandoned engineering factory known as _Gideon's Gadgets and Gears,_ just on the outer side of Gotham. It would take the police a good while to track down the missing Dr. Warner, but how could they if they had no leads after the wreckage in which three people were dead - driver and two guards - but no sign of the prisoner being transported to Arkham? She scoffed. As much as she wanted to dominate him at Arkham, there was no way in hell she could make an exception among her patients. The asylum had been a better environment ever since she was put in charge, so no exceptions. Warner deserved proper punishment.

Now here they were, and she had donned the garb of the Empress, waiting for the subject to awake so she and her fiancée could have their fun with him. She'd even brought her lucky scythe…which she never used unless for special occasions. Much like she used to butcher her mother years before.

"He's waking up." Like her, Jonathan was all in black leather to avoid leaving traces of DNA and fingerprints all over the place - gloves, jacket and pants, and boots - just like they both did to their abusive female superiors. However, over her costume, she'd donned a full-length, beautifully cut and tailored trench coat of black leather that graced her body nicely, but her mask wasn't needed this time. Warner would know who she is…but would never live to tell of it. She stood by Jonathan's side and waited, watching as their captive slowly stirred, groaning at whatever pain he was feeling at the present time, before snapping his eyes opened and screaming as he beheld his surroundings, then at his bleeding hands under the restraints, and then rested his attention on the leather-clad couple before him.

"You!" he cried, pointing the accusation directly at them. "You did this to me!" Iris laughed coldly and airily as if he'd told a humorless joke.

"No," she replied calmly, walking his way but moving past him, her heeled boots clicking with each pace. "You did this to yourself. Your beastly lust - your immoral actions - brought you to this place."

He struggled once more before succumbing helplessly. But that did not stop him from begging her verbally. "Could you give me time to explain, please?"

Iris stopped where she was behind a stack of iron shelves that offered her a view of him and much of the room, and eyed him with a raised eyebrow. "You hear that, Jonathan? He's begging for time." She laughed again, the plea a joke to her. "No, you old fool, I can't give you time. No one can. Time's an illusion."

"Look, look, dear Iris, I'm sorry. For everything. I'm bleeding, and can you please let me go so we can work this out?" He stopped speaking when both he and Jonathan heard a deadly slicing of metal in the air, turning their heads when they saw Iris draw one of her blades - this one was like the one Michael Myers was so fond of dishing out. It was meant as a warning that his pleas would not get him anywhere.

Iris chuckled and shook her head. "Oh, I forgive you, Victor. I do. Pedophilia has ruined your life and those of your victims. And you know…" She put the knife back to her belt, having drawn it only as a deadly warning like a snake rearing its head back to strike the victim. "…I could let you go." She moved over, heels clacking again, and stopped right in front of him, leaning forward so her face was inches away from his. "But that wouldn't serve you. If I let you go, you'd bring the cops. I would reconsider thinking it over given your current status to the press."

She reared herself back, standing straight up and smirking at the look on his face. Jonathan's face matched her own. "Tell you what I will do, though. We'll give you a tool and then an after-lesson that will reclaim your life…to discard the vices that have so corrupted your soul."

Warner groaned and threw his head back. He clearly did not care what she was saying to him. "I don't even have a soul."

"Maybe you will in the supposed next life, Professor," Jonathan said, standing from sitting on top of the table in front of his former professor. "Now then…" he began calmly. "…all we want is sweet revenge on both of our tongues, as it had been for the both of us twice before. Both my grandmother and her mother did not give us what we deserved, so they deserved what we gave them both - you are no different than Mariah Crane and Maria DeLaine ever were. You saw me attractive but couldn't find the right way to lure me into your bed, blackmailed Eddie as it was the light bulb to your mind of ideas. But you're also no different than Mariah and Maria when you didn't think it would eventually come to this moment now. But now, it's time to put the past to rest, isn't that right, my sweet little flower?"

"Oh, absolutely," Iris answered. She walked around Warner to the device hooked onto the machinery section facing the man's lap, and pressed the button on the outside facing her. The clamp installed shot out and latched itself _hard_ where he used as a weapon on Jonathan and others. He screamed again.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"

"It's the tool," Jonathan responded, returning the twisted smile Iris was giving him. "The tool that's going to save your life." His voice took on a more menacing undertone that could easily belong to Scarecrow. "We want to play a game."

"Your life is a lie, Dr. Warner," Iris said knowingly, placing her hands behind her back as she circled him like a vulture flying over a dead dinner menu. "Now comes your moment of truth. As a rapist and a predator, you've preyed on the brilliance and exceptionality of the eager and brightest of young people to fuel your filthy carnal desires. Today we are putting that to an end, and bringing the ugly inside of you out into the open…to savor your final moments."

She stopped in front of him. Now it was time for the ultimate showdown. She clapped her hands together, and all the lights around them in the circle came on. Hanging from nearly invisible thread from the ceiling were the various photos from the album book, stolen from police headquarters just for the fun tonight. "As a voyeur, you've kept photos of those you victimized. Can you see the pain you have brought them? You have torn apart their lives. You have used your body as an instrument of abuse. Now we'll give you the chance to give up the one thing that is most important to you - your pride, which has caused those around you endless suffering."

She tapped the device with a gloved finger. "Just lean forward and press your body against the device to start it up. Press yourself into it like you would your helpless sufferers. Press hard enough and after you sacrifice your main tool, you'll release yourself from the arm and leg restraints that bind you. Press _hard,_ though…" She bared her teeth in a wide, almost Cheshire grin. "…and you'll be free."

"You - you sick bitch!" Warner shouted. Iris backhanded him hard, silencing him to the point of glaring at her instead.

"Or you can sit idly and bleed out onto the floor," she added with a nod to his restrained hands, blood flowing out and dripping scarlet rubies onto the cold floor. She turned away from him to head Jonathan's way. "Live or die, Dr. Warner." Stopping beside him, she finished with a chilling smile, "Make your choice."

None of what happened particularly surprised her. She excelled in the study of the anatomy to know that the severing of the male genitalia would cause an immense bloodflow, but no death, as well as great agonizing pain for "poor" Warner in front of them both. But it wouldn't kill him just yet until one of them did.

Either way, he had not much time left.

The screams he made as the clamps tightened around the weapon he treasured above all others were music to her ears - she could hear Jonathan's heavy breaths as it seemed to have aroused him as much as it did to her. They would have expected the show to go on and savor every scream and every minute of it, but unfortunately, it had to end, because once Warner lost his special place down there, his binds were released, and he collapsed onto the floor, bleeding heavily and crying like the babe he'd been reduced to. Seeing him that way made Iris realize this was the opportunity they'd been waiting for. She turned behind her to where her favorite weapon laid on the table - her scythe. Long and gracefully curved, deadly all the same. But no, she wasn't going to kill Warner. She'd killed Maria with this, but Jonathan never once used this on anyone as far as she knew. He deserved this honor. Iris handed the weapon to him, smiling at his slightly bewildered expression.

"Finish him off, my love. Finish what _you_ started."

She watched as he walked over to where the old man was still kneeling and whimpering like a child, much like the Rosenberg witch had been on the lab table. "This is ironic, isn't it?" Jonathan spoke to his enemy, wondrous and beautiful to her ears. "The scythe is a delicate but lethal farm tool - befitting for a scarecrow, is it not?"

"And it is the same weapon I used to finish off my mother - not long before I spent the last hours with her, giving her a taste not that different from what we gave you," Iris said, winking and tilting her head in the direction of the gory mess on the torture chair. "Now you felt exactly what she did."

"And how...satisfactory it was to see you have your last scream," Jonathan agreed, keeping his hands on the gleaming scythe. "I said before it should have ended that night after graduation, but then again, the fun as of late would not have been as sweet. But tonight, you can be rest assured the last good-bye is just as sweet." He looked at his bride from the corner of his eye. She nodded for Jonathan to finish the job. The blade hissed as he raised it high with all his might, and bringing it down before Warner could even scream one more time for the sake of it.

Blood splashed her exposed chest curves as well as Jonathan's face, which he had it in him to leave alone and savor the delicious coppery heat, instead focusing on the results of their victory.

The head of Dr. Victor Warner bounced away in the pattern of a basketball on court into the distance, vanishing into the darkness, his body collapsing with a heavy _thud,_ gore pouring out into a black, red-tinted puddle before the stumped neck.

 **And now the Druid chorus sings their tune at the blood spilled from the dead enemy. :D**

 **This chapter has been nothing short of fun especially with the great speech Jonathan gives when he and Eddie arrive at the wedding, which is exactly what Harold and Kumar did at the wedding near the end of "Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay". The final scene where the happy couple tortures and eventually kill Warner was combined with two of the best scenes and wonderful dialogue from the fourth Saw movie, if anyone likes those torture porn films and that particular series.**

 **One of Vytina's best artworks of Jonathan and Iris on deviantart, "Only Beginnings", has that incredible and true quote about the obstacles to true love in its name. :)**


	30. I Could Not Ask For More

**This particular ending was inspired by the ends of two of my favorite Harlequin romance novels, "The Snow-Kissed Bride" by Linda Goodnight as well as "The Earl's Forbidden Ward" by Bronwyn Scott. :) Chapter was also named after a song by one of my favorite country artists, Sara Evans. Enjoy the last of this great story. No regrets.**

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I Could Not Ask For More

They were married near the end of October that year, when the autumn leaves were falling, and the Temple of Love at the edge of the garden had been set up for the two of them, the pillars crawling with vines of roses of eye-catching beauty - deep velvety red striking silvery reverses amid lush, shimmering green foliage, drenching the air with the smell of their perfume. The trees around them shielded with more protection than any mountains in the world, and the pond before the temple shimmered to the point of the gold of Midas under the cloudless sky. Who could ask for anything more than this very same place which was part of him and Iris?

Edward and Jervis were his best men in the trim-cut, black suits and ties, given he hated the bowties, and crisp white shirts, which was the same thing he wore. A red rose with small black ribbons was pinned to their left breast pockets. And there were the bridesmaids, Alice and the near-the-end-of-her-pregnancy Joan, whose dress had been altered to fit her eight-month growth - in short, fun dresses of shimmering red satin with a peplum, all holding bouquets of wildflowers and irises in blues and yellows. Alice's was in a curled bun behind her head, and Joan's was a curly ponytail.

Their guest list was limited to Drew and his family, Jim Gordon and his family, as well as Jim Farnsworth who had brought forth his beautiful bride to him. There were also Pamela and Harley, fresh out of Arkham together. The affair was to be kept intimate and between family and friends.

 _And_ there was Iris, his beautiful goddess he could very well associate with Artemis.

Her mother's dress had been remodeled to fit her style - much of the lace and crystals as well as the straps had been removed so that the silhouette was now fitted and flaring in a mermaid cut, black lace florals now covering the bodice and waist as well as the entire hem and train. For a fresh and fun look, her hair was in breezy and luscious curly locks of pure ebony flowing down her back, some over her shoulders, her forehead accented with a simple and graceful ruby circlet that adorned her forehead. Adding a touch of drama to the ensemble were the black onyx and Swarovski crystal chandelier earrings. The bouquet of blue irises in both hands were around a single glowing red rose with a heart so dark it was almost black, and the black diamond lotus waiting for its companion to be placed upon her finger. Last of all, there were the black diamond ring from her grandmother and the opal above her heart that he gave her so long ago, that she'd never taken off as long as they'd lived. He could prolong this moment forever, just looking at her.

"How long have we waited for this day?" she whispered to him.

"Long enough, my little flower." He never got tired of looking into those vivid sapphire eyes that matched his own, excited to spend the rest of his life always waking to them and them being the last thing he saw at night.

How did it all happen and they got to be here? He spent his entire life alone before he met her, never thought he could love a woman after what he went through - but then she walked into his life and washed away those fears altogether as he had erased hers, and now they were both free from years of pain and discouragement.

Her lips did not once tremble as she looked him on, speaking her vows. "Jonathan Thomas Crane, you've always been the one man in my life who actually cared about me, who didn't treat me like a freak as everyone else in school did - or anyone else in general. You are the one man who ever loved me, who took me home all those years ago when I came to your office, barely conscious after what was done to me on campus grounds. You took care of me…kept me safe and protected me at all costs, and in return I did the same for you after you lost everything you had at Arkham."

Jonathan's hand shook in hers as he smiled down at her, both pairs of eyes as blue as the Caribbean waters perfectly matched. His own voice trembled only slightly. "Iris Mara DeLaine, I have never told you this often because you know it in the way I look at you and touch you…but I love you with every fiber of my being. I tremble with your beauty, your passion, your intelligence and wit…and your strength. As the years passed from the day you walked into my classroom, I watched as you grew from a lovely, terrified girl to a strong, beautiful woman who's a hundred times more than I ever could be."

As the last vow was taken by the wind to be heard for the whole world, the minister asked, "Please place the rings on each other's hands, to represent the love that you share."

 _The circle of marriage signifies what the Celtic Trinity knot does...eternity, no beginning and absolutely no end…_ Jonathan's breath caught in his throat as he watched the simple silver band slide up her dainty finger to meet its more elaborate companion. After he received his own, the black steel, he was free to kiss the bride and complete the long circle they spun around for so long to get to this day which began the rest of their lives.

The reception had been set off on the other side of the bridge, near the pond itself, overlooking the Sunken Gardens across the dark, shimmering disk. Tables and chairs of simple black wood were covered with beautiful black-and-white damask print tablecloths with centerpieces of realistic-looking white tree branches draped with red roses and glittering crystals. The dishware was effortlessly chic, stylish black-banded with accents of platinum. And there was the cake, pure white with satiny black ribbons around the bases of each of the four tiers, scrolling with damask patterns in black frosting, and topped with red and white roses.

Since the guests were the first ones to enjoy themselves for the first portion of the time of the reception, the bride had time to change into her reception dress. Jonathan had wanted to "spend some time" with her in the bedroom before they went back out to the party, but they didn't have much time and didn't want to keep them waiting. Not to mention, early on in her pregnancy, Iris had been afraid she would lose the baby in early trimester, so there had been limited intercourse to none, due to the small possibility that miscarriage was possible. But she was into the fourth month, and he missed "bonding" with her.

She left the bedroom and found him still standing outside, now in a cute, short black number with a V-neck and the same strappy heels. Her circlet was gone, letting her hair run wilder, but kept the other jewelry pieces. Smiling down at her, he held out his hand to her and led the way.

It took them awhile to head down the terrace, and after taking a laughing stroll down the stairs of the Sunken Gardens until they reached the boat that took them across the pond, they announced their arrival that way to the guests, who cheered them on, and pretty soon the band Iris had hired to play for them began a song of Celtic influence and marital excitement for the bridal couple entering. Afterwards, _Now We Are Free_ was played in dedication for their first dance.

The rest of the dance was hard to describe as Jonathan had been lost in a haze as he spun his new wife around without going too hard on her and give her sickness. But in the end they were laughing it off with everyone else who'd joined in, except the others were too preoccupied in the fun that they didn't notice the new Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Crane sneak off and into the woods - not too far away from the party, though, in case anybody wondered where they were. Iris had been the one to lead them away.

"Iris, what -?" Jonathan laughed when she silenced him with a steamy lip-lock. "What's gotten into you? Our guests -"

"Won't need us for the next few minutes." Before he knew it, she was dropping her dress, starting from the shoulder straps and to the ground, leaving her clad in a black lace-over-creamy white lingerie set, her four-months growth protruding in the sexiest way he'd ever seen in his life. Already, he'd remembered just now - after having been too preoccupied with the fun and happiness of today to remember when they'd last made love. Now she wanted to do it out here, just distances away from the reception party, and out in open nature. Except the dense of trees would surely hide them away from the public. Where was the harm in that?

The passion that had been hidden away for the past four months was unleashed from its cage like a wild beast ready to satiate its uncontrollable hunger. Jonathan's arousal flared within the confides of his trousers, and soon had himself and Iris on the ground beneath them, naked with their clothes neatly folded on a clean, grassy area beside them. Arms on either side of her shoulders, body slightly elevated so that he wasn't applying too much abdominal pressure against her baby bump - he would rather die than risking injury to both her and their child - he entered her slowly, gently as they'd gone for weeks without intimacy, and began to rock himself up and down, building them both up against the earth and beginning their "honeymoon" early.

~o~

 _A year and a half later…_

Jonathan Crane, head librarian of the Gotham Memorial, put down the book he was reading to give his full attention to his toddler daughter, Ravyn Aurora. Beside him, Iris laughed and reached over to offer the little girl a sweet treat as they waited in the sitting room of DeLaine Manor. Beside them, Edward and Joan waited with their daughter, Andromeda Divine, almost two years old, who hated sitting too long as per custom for a toddler. Right next to them, Dinah Liddell, Alice and Jervis' daughter who was the same age as Ravyn, was sitting beside her father, constantly asking him what her mother was doing - in few-word syllables - that she wanted everyone waiting here. Jervis would gently assure her that "Mommy will be fine," given the little blonde girl with both her parents' blue eyes and mother's rosy mouth had a slight feeling for the worse despite her age.

Andromeda was quite the little devil - something she'd gotten from Daddy - and unable to listen to her parents trying to get her to settle down in her seat, which was a normal thing for a two-year-old. Not to mention, she had her father's dark hair and emerald eyes in a face much like him.

Jonathan could not have asked for anything more than to be surrounded by these people who were his friends and family all the same. Ravyn was a blessed little angel with her small, straight mane of ebony hair flowing down to the middle of her back and vivid sapphire eyes…just like her mother. He reached beside him and squeezed Iris' hand, that simple gesture making her look up at him and smirk, eyes glinting with the same mischief as their little child.

Alice then appeared in the doorway of the sitting room. Her face was pale, but it wasn't the sickly type. She was glowing with happiness. "It's positive. I'm pregnant again. Which means Dinah…" She smiled over at her daughter sitting on her husband's lap. "…is going to be a big sister."

Dinah squealed with joy and jumped off Jervis' lap and ran over to hug her mother's leg, whilst Alice received a kiss and an embrace. Jonathan smiled at the scene before glancing over to Eddie, who was leaning in to whisper something in his wife's ear, perhaps asking her if she was ready for baby number two, and from the way her lips were moving, she was responding with "Someday," while little Andromeda was getting their attention by poking her head in between them and saying she wanted to be a big sister herself. Jonathan laughed at everyone around him before looking over at his beautiful, raven-haired wife in her simple white dress that graced her like snow - ironic that she could easily then be called Snow White - and smirked at her.

"How would _you_ feel about offspring number two?" he asked, even though he knew the answer.

"I'd rather know if _she…_ " Iris nodded at little Ravyn. "…would approve."

Ironically enough, Ravyn shook her head madly. "Nope! No, no, no!" she cried, making both her parents laugh, and her father patting her head tenderly.

"No more children it is," he said, then leaned in to kiss his wife soundly on the mouth, not caring if their poor daughter saw them. She was the one who made his life complete after a year and a half of marriage, having a little girl who had been excelling with her first words, and Jonathan Crane could not ask for more.

 **Vytina was also known to make artworks and biographies of the children conceived by these wonderful couples, names and all. :) Each unique and in a relationship of their own. I thought what better way to end these peoples' lives in a positive way.**


End file.
